the Passion of Angels and Demons
by The Drowned World
Summary: As ancient myths rise with incredible power, Xander and Angelus find themselves at the center of it all, caught up in a passion that may yet explode and burn the entire world to cinders... Warning: X/A Slash; Chapter XXV, Part I, is now available!
1. Prologue: Once upon a Time

_A/N: Welcome to the project that has been consuming my life for about two years now! For those of you who have been following this project from the beginning, my first two attempts at prologues just weren't getting the job done at all, and I needed something that was better suited to the story. So I wrote this._

_For those of you who have not read this yet, here are all the warnings, disclaimers, and summaries you'll ever need. Welcome to my world. You'll probably be insane by the time you leave (evil smirk)._

_The Passion of Angels and Demons_ -- This is a story set in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer universe, and it is a crossover with the X-Men's Dark Phoenix Saga by Chris Claremont. There are no characters from X-Men in this story, just my own version of the DPS adapted to _Buffy_.

**Warnings**: This is a SLASH story - it contains sometimes graphic sex between two men. If such things offend you, this is _not _the story for you. With that out of the way: **1** This is a Xander/Angel(us) romance (at least primarily), so if you do not like that pairing, this isn't for you. **2** This story is rated **M** because it deals with sex and a lot of gore - the fight scenes get pretty descriptive. This story isn't really for the weak-stomached (and yes, there is some straight sex in this too). That should be about it.

**Disclaimer**: Buffy the Vampire Slayer was created by Joss Whedon (who is an unparalleled genius), and is owned by FOX and by Mutant Enemy. I make no money. Also, the Dark Phoenix Saga (the best comic book story arc EVER) was written by Chris Claremont, and is owned by Marvel. I make no money, I'm just having fun. Lawyers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.

PS -- Joss Whedon is finally returning to TV!! With Eliza Dushku!! They're on a show called _Dollhouse_ which is looking something like a Whedonverse version of _Alias_, but better. It's gonna be on FOX this winter after _24_ finally comes back -- watch it!

Okay, on to the story.

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Prologue

_Once upon a Time…_

_In the second age,_

_When the darkest of angels is at reign,_

_A true warrior will rise_

_A Slayer like no other before or after_

_And in her hands will be the Key to the Door_

_Though she will know it not_

_And the world will rest on her choice_

_Between her duty and her heart_

_**-- The prophet Airindorick (date unknown)**_

_And the Doorway will open_

_And Hell will pour out_

_From the mouth it will belch_

_Like sulfurous magma_

_And there will be many who fight to close the Door_

_Champions of mighty heart joined with demons of purest dark_

_But ultimately the power that affects those of both worlds_

_Will be the Key to close the Door._

_**--from the Byrondirk Codex (kept in the library of the Watcher's Council Headquarters in London)**_

_From the ashes of saints and the fires of Hell_

_One will be borne of purest Dark and purest Light_

_And he will be the Doorway_

_And he will have to choose between the two_

_For only one born with a foot in both worlds_

_Will have the strength to bear the Child of Light_

_The Phoenix will rise_

_And the Doorway will choose which world to burn._

_**--A Seer, from her vision, given to a seeker, 1997.**_

Alexander Harris was six years old when the 'incident' happened. He was a child, and as such he had no idea that what had happened would have any import on the rest of his life. He actually later forgot that it was so important: he was so used to seeing strange things by then that it didn't seem particularly interesting. He'd always seen strange things, always heard things that no one else could and in fact most people insisted that he hadn't actually seen or heard anything.

He'd been in and out of councilors' offices for the last three years, ever since he'd started pointing things out to his parents. He was too young to understand the looks on their faces when he started speaking to things that they couldn't see. His mother tended to get a very strange look on her face, almost like she wanted to start sobbing, as if there was something particularly painful about him when he didn't act like all the other kids. His father, on the other hand, had started drinking. He'd also been demoted at work for it, and had started to yell at Xander and his mother more and more. Xander didn't like to think about that, though, so he'd started spending more time with Willow and Jesse. Tony Harris didn't usually drink in front of the other kids, so it was nicer like that.

The incident happened one day in September, about two or three days after Tony's strange cousin had come for a family visit. Jack was his name, and he was a tall, skinny man who had lots of weird tattoos and dressed funny. He was twitchy, and Xander used to think it was funny to look at the guy when he started fiddling with his fingers or tapping his feet because he couldn't sit still for very long. Other than that, Xander tended to avoid him because he stared at him funny.

Xander knew that he didn't look like other kids; he was taller than most of the kids in his class, and also very pale, no matter how much time he spent outside. He 'unnerved' people, whatever that meant, as his kindergarten teacher had told Jessica, Xander's mom, one afternoon. She said it was unusual to see a child so adult-like, so prepossessed. But she was more wigged about Xander's flashes of anger. She had reprimanded him once when a boy had taken Xander's toy. Xander hadn't had many compunctions about taking the toy back and whacking the other boy around the head a couple of times to teach him a lesson. Xander himself hadn't been able to understand why Miss Murlow had been so put out with him; how would the other boy know that taking things was wrong unless he got hit for it?

"Xander has authority issues," Miss Murlow had droned on to Jessica, who was sitting very nervously in the class listening to the teacher. Xander had gotten bored and walked away. "He does not like being told what to do and has no understanding that talking is a good way to teach someone - it's like he expects me to beat lessons into other children when they don't get it. I just don't understand, Jessica: he's so polite around you, and yet at times he is the holy terror of this class!"

So Xander was home from school for Jack's visit. He told his mom that Jack's eyes glowed strange when he was around Xander, and Jessica had lost it. She went very still, then crouched next to him and took his wrist hard enough to hurt. "Listen to me very closely, Xander, because this is important," she said urgently, staring into his eyes until he was cowed enough to pay attention. "You can't talk about these…things that you see to anyone but me, you understand? Especially not to strangers, alright? Promise me." Her eyes were shining, and she felt like she was bruising his wrist. Xander had nodded quickly.

So he didn't say how uncomfortable Jack made him feel, and on the third day of his visit, Jack had told Xander's parents that he'd be okay watching Xander when they went grocery shopping. Tony had said okay, even though Jessica had tried to bring Xander with them. Xander had a sense that Tony had hustled her out without him, and feeling angry and bereft, he'd stomped outside and started kicking a tree stump. The wind picked up around him and the sky darkened overhead as his mood grew darker to match.

That was when Jack came out of the house and said "Hey, Xan, got somethin' to show ya." He'd taken Xander's hand before Xander could protest and led him toward the stretch of trees outside Xander's house.

"I don't wanna go in there," Xander had protested as he was dragged along. It didn't feel good when Jack squeezed his hurt wrist and dragged him hard enough for his shoulder to feel sore. "Stop!" But Jack wouldn't listen, and just kept dragging him, shushing him and pulling him into the woods.

When they reached the little creek, Jack had turned to him and started touching him. Xander didn't like it; it felt dirty and wrong. So he'd wriggled away and told Jack to stop it. Jack told him to shut up and slapped him, hard. Xander had fallen to the ground, stunned. For all his father's drinking and shouting, he'd never really been hit before. He'd been shocked enough to fall down, and he stared up at Jack, shocked, as the freaky guy started reaching for his belt.

"Leave me alone!" Xander shouted, backing up. He felt like his head was spinning, and the whole forest around him was starting to blur in his vision, become sharper and then hazier, like it was disappearing behind a red film of rage. The babbling of the creek felt like drums in his head, and he felt rage and fear and darkness from inside that part of him that made him act like a bad kid.

The wind picked up, making birds shriek as they were blown down to the ground. Spooked, Jack jerked away, yelling "What the fuck?!" But it was too late for that. Xander's rage was finding an outlet, and the sky turned black as night overhead. Thunder rumbled like loud gunshots, and as Xander screamed and passed out, he didn't see the lightning slam down from the clouds like God's fist and strike the ground, right where Jack was standing.

The blast set about three trees on fire and threw Xander's unconscious body like a rag doll about twenty feet, back toward his house. When the Harrises returned home they saw a small fire and Tony had run to call the cops while Jessica ran out screaming for Xander. When she grabbed him, and saw the handprint on his face, she had freaked out and grabbed him, running for home. Of Jack there was no sign. She never bothered to look.

**888**

One year later, the Harris parents were sitting in the living room, anxiously awaiting their guests to arrive. Tony knocked down a shot of whiskey, enjoying the burn, building up his fortitude for the visit. Jessica sighed as she gazed out the window toward the still-blackened patch of woods where the charred beyond recognition remains of Jack Harris' body had been found. Just thinking of Jack filled Jessica with a bitter sort of rage – it was after he died, whatever the Hell had happened, that had made Xander so much more…_different_ than he'd already been. She glanced at the stairs, wondering what Xander was doing now. Tony followed her glance.

"What the hell are we doing this for, anyway?" he asked irritably. She stared at him incredulously. The question, he supposed, didn't really need answering. Since what had happened with Jack - and he never really stopped to think about that, because the thought that someone in _his_ family had been some freaky pedophile was too much for him to handle - whatever was wrong with Xander had just gotten worse.

The way that he acted – as if he were some God…it was creepy. He regarded everyone around him with a cool detachment, as if their lives were like a movie that he watched, vaguely interested but detached. Save for those strange moments where his temper would just _fly_…

Tony shuddered slightly, and took another swig from the bottle of whiskey. He savored the false strength that he picked up from the alcohol. The money that he and Jessica had saved up in the hope of a vacation to Hawaii had been spent on psychologists and doctors, experts and specialists. None of them had been able to help their son. So now they were broke and he was drunk and he and Jessica were fighting all the time…

After the incident, as they called it, he'd been so different, like another person – the looks that were distinctly non-Harris had intensified. If he hadn't been so pissed at the idea of Jessica cheating on him, a small part of him would almost have been relieved at the idea that this freaky version of Xander wasn't really his son.

The knock at the door startled them both.

**888**

Jenny Calendar was very nervous. She stared up at the two people in the front seat of the car that they had rented from the agency on the outskirts of Sunnydale. It was hard to decide which one scared her more – the woman in the passenger seat, or the man driving.

In the passenger seat was a beautiful blonde Frenchwoman named Marie-Claire Christiene. She was a High Priestess of the Moon Coven in Avalon – often cited as the most powerful Coven in Europe, if not the world. She had been cold and distant since Jenny had met her, two weeks beforehand.

Now, she sat like an incarnation of the Goddess herself, her eyes straight ahead and unseeing, as if she were searching the currents of the future. It would have been a smart idea, Jenny had to admit. From what she'd managed to gather about the trip they were making, there was a potential threat they were facing that posed a danger to…well, Jenny wasn't sure. All she knew was that the Moon Coven was afraid. And what they feared was a general cause of concern to the world.

In the driver's seat sat Tomas Calendar, Jenny's great-uncle, an Elder of the Calderash Gypsy Tribe. The Calderash Gypsies had business in California, so they had been on hand when the magic alert was put by a subsidiary of the Moon Coven. The Calderash had allied themselves with the great Coven years ago.

Tomas was gripping the steering wheel very hard, as he always did when he was irritated. He was irritated by a lot of things, her uncle Tomas. One of them was the fact that not everyone saw the world in the black-and-white of his ancestors – if it were up to him, Marie-Claire wouldn't even be here.

Jenny stared uneasily out the window. Sunnydale was a quaint, beautiful and sunny Southern California town, but there was something in the air, a faint sort of evil miasma that set her senses to trembling. She'd asked her uncle about it earlier, and he'd told her that it was a dark town, and not to worry about it. He hadn't elaborated, and she knew enough by then to not ask.

"We're here," Marie-Claire said suddenly, jerking out of her private reverie. Tomas sent her an annoyed look, as he was already gliding into the driveway of the Harris residence. He parked the car with short, angry movements. Marie-Claire never spared him a second glance. Tomas knew better than to really piss off a member of the Moon Coven, so he kept the major part of his irritation to himself.

Jenny quickly got out, surveying the neighborhood around them for threats, as she'd been taught. What she felt rocked her backward; there was a _force_ in the house that they'd come to whose power…she'd never felt anything like it. Her uncle cast her an arch look; she flushed. She had been taught at an early age to hide her emotions, but she'd never been very good at it.

"I still don't know _why_ we're here," Tomas said suddenly, his pique getting the best of him. Marie-Claire deigned to turn to him, an eyebrow cocked in annoyed question. "Couldn't you just _make_ his parents say 'yes,' and have done with it?" he clarified.

She shot him a shocked look. Jenny wasn't surprised; Wiccans were taught that to inflict their will upon someone in such a manner was irreverent, horrifying, and forbidden. Gypsies, on the other hand, had no such qualms about using their magicks to get what they wanted.

"You should know my views on the abuse of power," she said shortly, stalking toward the house.

"Ah, yes," her uncle said, apparently unwilling to let the issue drop. This didn't surprise Jenny either; her uncle was as stubborn as a donkey. "Power corrupts, and all of that. When will you people stop lecturing me?" he snapped, his voice dripping acid.

"When you start listening?" Marie-Claire returned with a poisonously sweet smile. Her uncle ground his teeth together in annoyance, but she regally ignored him. "Besides, can't you feel it?" she said suddenly. "This is different."

Tomas could say nothing to that. She nodded as if to accept the victory, and then raised up her hand and firmly knocked on the door three times.

**888**

Xander lay up in his room, a pillow over his head. It was more quiet like this, and the seven year old cherished the dark and the silence more than anything as he tried to block out the pain in his head. He didn't understand what the word 'migraine' meant, but the shrink that his parents kept making him go to said that he had stress headaches.

It just _hurt_, was all he knew, all he could think with a whimper of pain. He just got so damn _angry_, lately, and then weird things would happen and his mom would get angry and his dad would yell and drink and he'd get a headache that made him feel like puking his guts up, like when he tried to make the weirdness stop happening he was forcing something dark back inside of him that wanted out.

His parents had been real quiet lately, ever since they got something in the mail. He knew it was about him because his dad was drinking more and his mom was chewing her lip, a nervous habit that was weird because sometimes she'd bleed. His mom loved lemonade, the more bitter the better, and so you could always tell when she'd been chewing because whenever she drank the stuff and left stinging blood bright as rubies on the glass it meant that the acidy drink had cut her back open.

He heard his parents get up to answer the door, and he smothered his face deeper into the pillow, praying that the pain would _stop_. He heard a roll of thunder in the distance at his thought, and he curled in on himself. He hoped his mom wouldn't come up and hit him again. Thunder shouldn't show up on a perfectly clear day.

**888**

"So, the place looks nice!" Jessica Harris said, too loudly, too brightly. She sounded as if she were trying to break the stony silence that had settled as soon as Tony and Tomas had laid eyes on each other. Jenny had chosen a creaky rocking chair near a window, farther back from Marie-Claire, who had taken point on the chair closest to the Harrises. Tomas was standing in a corner, watching the proceedings.

"Yeah, nice enough to cost whatever the rest of the fuckin' shrinks have cost," Tony grumbled quietly. "You never actually explained in your letter how you found out about Xander," he continued aloud, ignoring the glares that Jessica was shooting him frantically from his other side. "What do you want with him anyway?"

"We have received recommendations from Xander's elementary school," Marie-Claire lied smoothly. "Alexander appears a perfect candidate for our program - and, if money is an object, you should know that we are a non-profit organization dedicated to the education of special children. This won't cost you a cent, should you agree." She kept her tone smooth and even, sounding like a teacher herself instead of the power that she was. Jenny thought that this was a good tactic; Marie-Claire was an imposing, regal presence and she had a feeling that Tony Harris would instinctively lash out against it.

"Non-profit?" Tony asked with a sneer, clearly thinking of something recent. "What, you some kinda pedo shit?"

Marie-Claire looked like she had just been punched in the face; Jenny gasped slightly, feeling sick at the thought. Tomas' lip curled to the point that it might have been hurting his face, and opened his mouth to blast the man. It wasn't necessary; at the question, Jessica Harris turned and soundly punched her husband in the back of the head.

"What the fuck, woman?" he demanded with a small cry of pain.

"Shut up, Tone - we need this," she whispered, glaring at him with that special glare. Sometimes, his wife freaked him out with that glare. Sometimes, there was something about Jessica almost as different as Xander - like they were both a part of something that he could only guess at if he _wanted_ to, which he didn't.

"Mom?"

Everyone in the living room froze and as one regarded the small figure by the stairs. Jenny stared.

The boy looked nothing like either one of his parents, was her first impression. In fact, he looked nothing like the pictures of him on the wall. There was something alien, different…_demonic_, she thought with a bit of a recoil. The boy was pale as snow with unnaturally red lips, like the vampires of common mythology. His hair was an ebony dark that was unusual without dyes. He held himself with an uncanny grace, a poise that belied both his age and his appearance. It was eerie - but his eyes…they were a strange dark color, with a darkness in their depths that burned with some smoldering power. They were doll's eyes, and they made Jenny want to walk out of the room.

"Xander, honey, what are you doing down here?" Jessica asked quietly. She wasn't quite looking at her son - _she's afraid of him_, Jenny realized. The boy rubbed his head with a grimace of pain, and said "My head is hurting again."

_I can't penetrate his mind_, a voice whispered in Jenny's consciousness. She jumped slightly, but thankfully no one seemed to notice. She looked at Marie-Claire, wondering what the woman meant. _There is some kind of force field, like an electric current, around his mind. It hurts when you try to read him_, the woman elaborated.

The High Priestess of the Holy Isle couldn't read the thoughts of a seven year old boy? Jenny stared even more uneasily at the child. His eyes suddenly met hers. It wasn't what she was prepared for. Yes, the darkness was there. But Jenny had a sense that it wasn't only darkness in the boy's eyes. For underneath the almost alien coldness in Xander's gaze, there was a sweet light and a childish innocence and naïveté still struggling to the surface. She had a strong urge to hug the child, and to push him away all at once.

"Who are they?" the boy asked, pointing to the strangers. He went towards his mother.

"They're here to talk to us about a school," Mrs. Harris said gently, but still not quite looking Xander in the eye. Jenny winced at the obvious avoidance tactics the woman was employing. Clearly the boy had picked up on it, too.

"I already go to school," he said, his voice somehow managing a mix of confusion, hurt, and surly anger all at once.

"Well, this is a different school," Tony Harris snapped, not even trying to be subtle about not looking at his only son.

"So now you're trying to send me _away_?" Xander snarled back, his eyes lighting up with the anger of an animal who has been hurt and was ready to lash back. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"It's not like that, Alexander," Marie-Claire tried to explain in a gentle voice.

"I didn't ask _you_," Xander snapped icily, cutting her off with a hot glare.

"Xander!" Jessica gasped, annoyed and opened her mouth to continue when Marie-Claire cut her off.

"It would perhaps be better if we were permitted to speak to Xander alone," she suggested. The tone of her voice brooked absolutely no argument, and Jenny saw Xander's eyes widen slightly when his parents complied rather readily, getting up to leave. Xander flicked his gaze back to Marie-Claire, a new appraisal in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked finally, some of the icy regality leaking from his demeanor. He looked a little scared, a little confused as he sagged into the couch. Looking closer, Jenny was surprised to note that the dark of his eyes was lightening to a lovely chocolaty color. Marie-Claire obviously noticed it too, for she leaned closer, conspiratorially smiling in Xander's direction.

"Xander, I'd like to take you to a place for special people, just like you," she said gently.

"I'm special?" the boy asked, as if only now considering the idea. He smiled at the idea. "I always knew there was something different about me. That's what makes my mom so angry," he continued with the bluntness of a child. Jenny was noticing more and more that as the child that he was emerged, the strange, alien presence he had exuded when he'd first walked in was dissipating.

"Yes -- but you see, we can teach you about that. We can help you," Marie-Claire elaborated.

"Help me?" Xander asked, his eyes suddenly darkening. "I'm not a freak, you know! I'm a kid and I don't need any more of my mom's stupid shrinks!" It was at this moment that Xander's temper seemed to flair in a curious way. As his voice rose, the sky darkened with angry black clouds. Jenny watched, transfixed, as thunder boomed in time with the boy's voice.

"That's enough of that now," Marie-Claire said flatly, and suddenly the storm began to break up. Xander froze, staring out the window with wonder in his eyes.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded.

"You'll know when you come with us," Marie-Claire said with a smirk. Xander slowly smiled, but not like any of them thought. He'd go with them, sure. A part of him had known that as soon as they'd walked in the door. He would learn from them -- but just so that he could make this freaky crap stop. He'd not be like his father or his mother. He'd be better. He'd show them that he could stand on his own two feet, free from _anyone's_ control.


	2. I Angels In The Shadows

**A/N**: The first chapter! For those of you who haven't yet read this story, keep reading the chapter because this author's note won't do much for you. If you _have_ read this story, please read the author's note before reading this chapter.

The original first chapter, "Angels in the Shadows," was very small, provided almost no detail, and was first intended as the prologue of this story. Since I've had to include a different prologue, I've felt that revision was needed. Please note that I wrote the original of this "chapter" more than two years ago – a lot of revision was needed!

This provides all of the backstory that it needed and also gives more characterization, which I think you'll all appreciate. Also, the title makes a lot more sense now that I've played up the shadows in Angelus' thoughts down at the bottom.

**THIS IS THE FIRST IN A LINE OF REVISIONS OF THE FIRST CLUSTER OF CHAPTERS**.

**AN IMPORTANT NOTE ON THE TIMELINE OF THIS STORY!!!!!!!:** Okay, the episode "Passion" occurs sometime after Valentine's Day, so we can assume it is meant to be in April. In _my_ story, after the events of "Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered" Angelus vanished for a little bit. This story takes place at the _very BEGINNING_ of the episode "Passion" and veers into AU from there, and the events of this happen a little more than a month after Valentine's Day.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter I

_Angels in the Shadows_

In the events of every life there are defining moments; in these moments every creature great and small makes decisions. Whether the moment is enormous or just a ripple in the ocean, these decisions affect everything. Looking back, Alexander Harris always knew that the largest defining moment of his young life was _that_ night, at the Bronze, so long ago before everything changed.

Xander, as his friends called him, no matter how hard he thought about it, never knew what possessed him with the mad desire to escape to the shadows of the small balcony of the Bronze. He had needed to get away, away from the crowds, away from his friends, away from everything. That one decision had somehow affected the entire world.

**888**

There was nothing around Sunnydale that night to suggest anything other than normality…or as normal as anything ever got around the Hellmouth. Sunnydale, California was a small, quiet, peaceful town that just happened to be located on a center of mystical convergence where the walls between the human world and, well, Hell were very thin. That in itself should have raised alarm flags – they had all lived in Sunnydale long enough to be able to say with some authority that whenever things were quiet on the Hellmouth something of the major badness variety was about to strike.

Sunnydale, California, called by the Spanish _Boca del Infierno_, called by the teenagers boredom land, called by the adults 'a nice, quiet, peaceful little suburb.' In the eyes of the wretched horrors and demons that stalked the night, it was the Holy Land. In particular, Sunnydale had cornered the market with how many vampires you could stuff into one town. It was part of the ancient magic of the Hellmouth that the people of Sunnydale never noticed anything strange or out of the ordinary. They allowed themselves to be blind to it, to explain away every bump in the night with a shrug.

Sometimes Xander wondered at how stupid he'd been to not at least notice that there were twelve major cemeteries within the city limits of the town that he'd grown up in.

Xander _had_ been one of the oblivious masses that the underworld had so greedily preyed upon for years. He'd just been your average slacking sophomore at Sunnydale High School, never noticing when students disappeared or strange stuff happened at his school. He'd never really been able to focus on it – it hadn't affected _him_ so he couldn't really say jack about it.

And then one day he'd come to school like usual and noticed that one extremely pretty new blonde girl had transferred in from Los Angeles. Score! Her name was Buffy Summers and on top of being a pretty blonde she seemed to not only have more than half a brain but also the potential to be nice – _always_ a plus with attractive high school girls. He'd quickly introduced himself (and just as quickly made an ass of himself), but he'd held out hope seeing as how the girl had deliberately rejected Cordelia Chase, the most pretty and popular girl in the county, in favor of hanging out with Willow Rosenberg , Xander's hugely nerdy best friend, and Jesse McNally, Xander's best guy bud since kindergarten.

That was when things had turned freaky. He'd gone to the library and asked the new British guy for a book on math that Wills had wanted him to check out to help with Trig homework (_drag_). Back up in the quiet, dark, and vaguely spooky book stacks, he'd heard the doors slam open behind him. Peeking out, he watched the new girl, Buffy, storm right up to the librarian and inform him that there was a dead guy in the girl's locker room who'd been sucked dry by vampires and that she didn't care.

Okay – seriously weird, but he could wonder if she was maybe asking about a book. Science fiction books were pretty cool (some of the only things Xander read voluntarily) so maybe he could lend her some of his. He was sure he had a vampire book or two _somewhere_ in the mess that was his bedroom (note to self—clean room before inviting someone over).

That was of course when the librarian (Mr. Giles) had informed Buffy that she was "the Slayer, the one girl in all the world, the Chosen One" whose duty it was, apparently, to hunt down vampires, demons, and other forces of darkness. At this point Xander was seriously wigging out and hid even further behind the shelves. Buffy had gotten into a huge argument with him about how "slaying" had wrecked her life and gotten her kicked out of school and how she was "retired" and he could go stuff himself.

She'd stormed out of the library looking like the wrath of Hell and Giles had muttered a curse and ran out after her.

Xander had deliberately put the whole thing out of his mind and went home that day, catching himself inspecting shadows and jumping at odd noises. Thoroughly freaked, Xander had thrown some clothes on and headed out to the Bronze to meet up with Willow. She'd know what to say to this crap.

The Bronze was the huge nightclub in Sunnydale (the _only_ nightclub in Sunnydale). It was open to anyone and everyone over the age of fifteen, with a minimal cover charge. It had a bar that served both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, a small café with a surprisingly good food menu, lots of comfortable seating, a dance floor, and a small stage where they could host live bands.

That night they'd booked Sprung Monkey, which was a cool little band, so the cover charge was a couple of dollars higher. Xander had quietly raided the loose change jar to cover the cost and headed out, walking quickly and staying in lit up areas. _Nothing wrong with being cautious_, he'd told himself. _Vampires – _right_, sure_, he'd thought to himself contemptuously.

Only, that night when he'd gotten to the Bronze, Buffy was running outside, face flushed, clutching a sharpened stick in her hand. She'd informed him that Willow had been taken by a bad guy, and he'd joked with her about the Slayer thing. To his surprise she flipped out on him for it being the truth, and something about the horrified, haunted look in her eyes, the passion in her face…_something_, and he believed her enough to follow her to the nearest cemetery.

To his horror, they'd _found_ not only Willow but Jesse as well, locked in a dusty old crypt with two strangers, a guy and a beautiful blonde woman – beautiful until she'd turned around and her face was wretched, contorted, monstrous; she was icy pale and her eyes glowed an evil yellow in her face, a mouthful of jagged fangs bared. _Vampire_, a voice whispered to him from the back of his mind.

Jesse and Willow were both pale, scared, and freaking, and Jesse had a nasty, bloody hicky on his neck. That was bad enough, until Buffy had calmly skewered the stranger guy (_vampire_) with the sharp stick, straight through the heart. It made a nasty stabbing noise and the guy gasped in shock and pain before falling to the floor…and collapsing into a pile of graveyard dust and ashes.

Xander and the others had turned and fled the crypt, screaming for help as Buffy launched into some serious kung fu on the blonde monster – but all they found were more vampires, laughing as they separated them, the pain as he was knocked unconscious for the first time in his life as a taloned fist smashed into the back of his head. Next time he came to Buffy was standing over him with Willow at her side, a vampire running away, hissing in rage, behind her.

Jesse was nowhere to be found.

That next day Giles had sat them down and told them about the world – it had once been the home of demons until somehow humans had come into the world. The humans had created the Slayer, one girl in every generation given supernatural strength, speed, and hightened senses, along with the occasional prophetic dream. Vampires were demons – people who'd been bitten and had their blood mixed. Demon hopped in and _became_ the person: their memories, personality, subconscious, everything, but the human soul went on to its afterlife.

The part that had really scared Xander at the time was that it made _sense_ to him, it _fit_ and he believed every word without question because somehow he _knew_ that there were such things as demons. So when Buffy had cut class to hunt down the vampires in the sewers to find Jesse, Xander had made his choice.

Jesse was his best friend, and no matter what you could say about Xander, he was loyal to those he loved without fault. Jesse was like his brother, and Xander wasn't about to let anything happen to him. Sure, he didn't have superpowers, sure he was just a guy, but Buffy was fast becoming a friend to him too (maybe more) and so he armed himself with a flashlight and went after her to the crypt that was (according to Buffy) where the vampires were entering the sewer tunnels from the cemetery (after Willow had easily hacked the city council's archives and pulled up an entire schematic of the underbelly of the town of Sunnydale).

He'd gone into that crypt, and he'd felt eyes on the back of his neck. He'd turned but there was no one there, that he could see, but he could _feel_ that there were eyes on him, from somewhere in the shadows. It made him shiver and so he resolutely went towards the door in the back shadows of the crypt, where he could see it had been kicked in.

That day he'd followed Buffy until they'd found Jesse…who had turned out to not just be bait for the Slayer but also a vampire himself. Xander and Buffy had barely gotten out of there with their lives – only to find out that Giles had figured out that the vampires all served an ancient vampire king called "the Master," an extremely powerful, extremely old, and extremely _evil_ dude who'd tried to open the Hellmouth and let the demons back in, destroying the world.

The Master had gotten stuck like a cork in a bottle and trapped underground during the earthquake of '32, thank God, so now he was stuck in a mystical prison underground. Thing was, he had a plan to get out, and by releasing him the Hellmouth would open. That night they'd set off to stop an apocalypse.

Buffy had kicked ass at the Bronze (where the vampires were gathering so some creeper could suck a bunch of blood and transfer the power to the Master) while Xander and the others had got everyone out – except that he'd heard Cordelia screaming, and he'd known.

Jesse had had a crush on Cordelia since they were all in elementary school, and he'd tried to stop the vampire from killing her. But when Jesse had stood up and looked him in the face, no matter how evil he looked, no matter how Xander _knew_ that Jesse was dead and this was just a demon…he couldn't kill him. Because the demon _was_ Jesse, in a weird sense – it was Jesse's thoughts and memories, his personality, just _twisted_ with no conscience whatsoever. And Xander _couldn't_ kill that.

In the end, Jesse had been shoved onto Xander's stake, bursting into dust in front of him, and Xander had numbly sank to the floor. The blonde woman from the crypt had tackled Giles to the floor and Xander felt a surge of rage; that was the one who'd lured Jesse to his death, bitten him in the first place. Xander had felt a bitter, vicious hatred of vampires then, that they'd taken everything from him – not only his best friend who was like his brother, but his security, his ignorance.

He'd gotten up to try and kill her when Willow had dumped a jug of holy water on the vamp and she'd screamed and sprinted out of the Bronze with her face smoking like acid.

That night they'd stopped an apocalypse but something in Xander had been changed, forever. He'd chosen to stand by Buffy, to be her friend, to help hunt down the darkness that preyed on innocents like Jesse. That defining moment had led to others, and then to others, defining him, shaping him, leading them all to this one night at the Bronze when everything was about to change.

**888**

Buffy, Willow and Xander were all going to the Bronze together that night, which Xander was glad for because it was another sign that Willow had forgiven him for the Love Spell debacle about a month ago, and he really needed his friends that night. He shuddered even _thinking_ about _that night_ so he had jumped up and led the way to the dance floor. Tonight the DJ was groovin' on a trip-hop vibe and the crowd was loving it.

Buffy's face relaxed a little and she started to lose herself in the music with them and that was a blessing in and of itself considering everything the girl was going through at the moment. Willow was still a little giggly because during patrol that night a fledgling vampire had jumped at Buffy's back and Willow had staked it – it was the first time that Willow had killed a vampire all by herself without anyone holding it down.

Cordelia, Xander's shiny new girlfriend (and wasn't _that_ still a shocker) was out with her mother doing some quality shopping and Xander tried not to notice that both Buffy and Willow were happy about that. He had hit a strange stage with Cordy where they were spending less and less time making out and more and more time just talking. Cordelia, once you got past the self-centered princess, once you learned that her blunt and brutal honesty was actually a virtue, was a surprisingly smart, caring, and intuitive girl. He had a sneaking suspicion that he and Cordelia were on the road to bypassing boyfriend/girlfriend land and landing straight in quality-friend land.

That hadn't made it to Buffy or Willow yet, both of whom had been at the receiving end of Cordelia's verbal daggers one too many times for them to fully forgive her and count her in the Scooby Gang.

Still, thinking of Cordelia led to thinking about _that night_ and he didn't want to do that so he didn't think about her.

Instead, he tried to lose himself in the music.

Buffy had wanted to be out, surrounded by the living, and he couldn't blame her. Buffy had met a gorgeous, mysterious older guy named Angel her first night in Sunnydale. He was on the side of good, fighting evil alongside her, warning her of impending danger. It had spun everyone on their heads when he'd turned out to be a vampire.

Angel had once been Angelus, the Scourge of Europe and quite possibly one of the most sick, twisted and evil vampires to ever walk the face of the earth. His evil had led to him killing a gypsy princess and the gypsies had sworn revenge. They'd cursed him by returning his human soul, letting the "good" Angel feel the horrors that his unleashed demonic side had done with such pleasure.

For a century Angel had vanished, the guilt driving him into the shadows. He'd come back to fight for his redemption and had fallen in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a darkly funny thing if you thought about it. Angel had proved his love for Buffy that very week she'd found out he was a vampire by doing the major no-no in vampiredom and murdering his Sire, Darla (who, as it turned out, was the seriously evil blonde who'd murdered Jesse).

There had always been something about Angel that had made Xander uneasy, though. He wrote it off to his bitterness to vampires in general and had made his dislike known, which hadn't exactly endeared him to Buffy, but they didn't talk about it much. Still, it hadn't stopped him from being driven to defend Angel from Kendra (long story) and thanking Angel for saving his life, more than once.

That was, until Buffy's disastrous seventeenth birthday, when Angel and Buffy had done the deed and they all found out that Angel's curse had a hinge – should the curse ever lead Angel to find one moment of pure happiness the curse would be snatched away as a final punishment and unleash Angelus once again on whoever had given him that happiness.

Now the evil son of a bitch was back and he was seriously bent on hurting the Scooby Gang and Buffy most of all.

Xander shuddered thinking about it all. Thinking about Angelus did that to him lately. The music wasn't working to distract him like it usually did, no matter how much he tried to lose himself in it. And he could tell that Buffy and Willow were noticing that the smile on his face was forced, that the crazed dancing was beyond his grasp just now.

He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched, that obsessive, dark eyes were watching him from the shadows…

He feinted a spin just to assuage his fears and saw only shadows in the dark corners of the Bronze, where other, regular kids were making out, breaking up, living their blissfully normal lives. He tried to suppress another shiver that was making its way up his spine and sighed when he saw that Buffy was staring at him in concern.

"You okay, Xand?" Buffy asked, glancing around him to check the shadows herself. He hadn't wanted to bring her down, not tonight when she so desperately needed to pretend to be a carefree teenager. Willow had stopped dancing and was eyeing him too, her expressive green eyes lit up with worry. They'd both noticed that he wasn't acting at all like himself lately.

Xander laughed weakly, trying to pass it off as nothing, but both girls merely shared identical looks that broadcasted that they were doing that weird girl thing where they could read each other's minds. "I'm fine!" he said loudly with a falsely cheerful grin on his face. Neither of them fell for that one, either. "Seriously," he assured them, heading off the question already on Buffy's face. "I'll just go get some air up there, is all," he said, pointing towards the balcony stairs.

"Okay…" Buffy trailed off, clearly not convinced. "You want some company?"

"No, no!" he said quickly – the _last_ thing he needed right now was to answer questions about himself. He just needed to _escape_. Xander wasn't prepared to answer things that he still hadn't quite figured out for himself. "You two minxes just party it up without me!" he continued, and turned to practically bolt for the blessed solitude waiting for him at the top. _And the rest is silence_.

**888**

Buffy watched Xander go, worry in her mind and her heart. She knew that there was something big and obviously worrisome wrong with her friend, but she also knew that he wouldn't reveal it to her even under torture. Xander was just that way – he would hide it from her because he wanted to protect her from even more stress than what she was dealing with now.

She didn't know sometimes whether to be amazed and thankful for his white knight tendencies or to be annoyed and worried.

"What do you think is up with him?" Buffy asked Willow, trying not to let her level of anxiety show in her voice. Willow was her best girlfriend, like a sister. Buffy had tried to convince herself that all of her friends back in Los Angeles were like that, but she knew that none of them even held half a matchstick to the bond she'd developed with Willow.

Her friend's pale, heart-shaped face was framed by lovely red hair that brought out her green eyes. Buffy knew that if Willow just allowed herself to come out of her shell she'd be a knockout, easy; the trouble was convincing Willow of this. Right now, Willow's face was pinched with worry.

Willow and Xander had been best friends since they'd been in diapers; they'd had sleepovers and worn footy pajamas together, "dated" and then "broken up" when Xander had stolen her Barbie. They'd formed the "We Hate Cordelia" club together and Willow had nurtured a huge torch for Xander for years, which Xander hadn't noticed because Willow was like a sister to him. They were closer than anyone, and Buffy knew that anything that hurt Xander would knife through Willow's heart, and vice versa.

"I don't know," Willow said after a moment. "This isn't like Xander at all…he just looks so worried." Xander was usually a very _un_worried sort of person; he was normally the one cracking the dumb jokes in the face of mortal danger.

"We're gonna have to find out," Buffy said decisively. Whether Xander wanted to protect her or not, she was the Slayer, and she could deal with whatever it was. She needed her friends by her side now more than ever and she didn't want to think what it'd be like to have to deal with Angel without Xander and his jokes holding her up, supporting her.

However, she couldn't sense anything off in the Bronze tonight…well, more than what was off with _her_, but that was another matter – and she needed to cut loose a little tonight before tackling the big issues tomorrow. She knew the value of not trying to take care of everything in one night. That way led to more issues than _Time_ magazine and she wanted none of it.

"Come on," the Slayer said decisively, and grabbed Willow's hand, leading her friend into the crowd to try and lose herself in the music once more.

**888**

The shadows were a place that he was comfortable in. If you knew how to use shadows they could eat you up, take you anywhere – they were the true mystery of night because shadows occurred in the daytime. He smelled the spice of the night and the scent of wild, aroused human blood boiling in this little kingdom of humanity and he wanted to slice through it like a scythe and drink his fill.

Angelus smirked to himself as he thought of all that wild human blood, hot with arousal, fear, terror, hatred, love, _life_ burning down his being and feeding the demon within. But he could master that demon as he had mastered everything else. He could look across the dance floor at the Slayer, oblivious to him, and feel the dull pangs of hatred and other emotions that had once filled him at the sight of her, until they had been replaced.

She didn't have a clue he was here, which was good. She could usually sense him, in particular; he remembered nights spent in these very shadows, filled with the disgusting essence of humanity called a soul, watching the circle of Slayer and friends dancing and wanting more than anything to join them, to _be_ one of them. He fought the urge to spit at the thought of those days – the soul was gone and the _true_ Angel was back.

His prey had broken off from his mighty protector, making Angelus' job even easier. Perhaps the boy could sense him – the boy was already attuned to him. The thought of that sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. He could feel this falling into place so easily, and he felt the _rightness_ of his plan. He thought of a similar time when he had hid in the shadows, watching the boy break into an ancient crypt and fearlessly follow the Slayer to help his friends.

He remembered watching that boy and thinking what it would be like to have that loyalty for himself and all the dark yearnings that had emerged. Angel the Soul had shuddered in disgust at himself while Angelus the Demon had howled to be free as he had for a century now. Even then Xander had been able to sense him in the shadows.

Angelus pulled himself out of his musings. It was time – time to start and end this, all at once, and that thought filled him with excitement. He melted deeper into the shadows where a lowly minion vampire bowed and bared his neck in respect for his master. Angelus leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Get them ready – you know what to do."

The minion nodded, eager to please his master, but Angelus caught him around the throat. He could smell the fear-stink of the lower demon and it filled him with disgust. "Remember – if _anything_ goes wrong this night, I will torture you to your final death, and by the time I'm finished with you, you won't be able to form _words_," he snarled viciously, his true vampiric face shining forth.

The minion cowered away from him, nodding frantically, and ran to assemble Angelus' forces. Assured that the idiot would follow his commands to the letter, if only out of a sense of self-preservation, Angelus looked once again at the Slayer out on the dance floor. For a moment he felt all the old emotions again – hatred, lust, bloodlust. But she no longer held the center of his universe.

He allowed a predatorily possessive smile to slip across his sensuously handsome face as he slowly walked up the stairs to the balcony level of the Bronze, his eyes lighting as he saw Xander Harris standing alone, as if waiting for him. His demon roaring in triumph, Angelus moved forward.

**A/N**: Jeeze, when I started this I underestimated how much help this chapter needed! Well, I'm feeling much more accomplished now than when I originally had this idea! In any case, if you haven't read the rest of the story yet I hope you decide to, and if you have I hope you enjoy this better.

**AUTHORS **_**LIVE**_** FOR FEEDBACK! PLEASE REVIEW!**

So, until next time – thanks for taking the time!

Sincerely, _PyroPadawan_.


	3. II Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

**A/N**: Hey, guys – back again! I just realized that my last update date and my original post date are the exact same, only separated by two years. Weirdness abounds! Happy anniversary to me and my fans!

Anyway, this is following the riff off of the first chapter – I've been rearranging and updating my old, badly written chapters to fit with the rest of the story. This chapter needed a lot of work – I realized that I'd made Angelus a horrible bad guy. It was campy and kind of stupid and it didn't provide nearly as much as it needed to. So I upgraded it. (I can no longer hear the word "upgrade" without seeing Beyoncé doing her stupid little HG TV commercial! UHG!)

_**In case you haven't read this chapter before:**_ This chapter chronicles Angelus' activities during the episode "Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered." It is told almost entirely in his point of view. It is _not_ a retelling of the episode because there's a lot that I needed to change in it to fit my AU story.

The only parts of this story that are copacetic with cannon are a) when Angelus gives Drusilla the human heart for Valentine's Day, and Buffy the roses and b) when Angelus attacks Xander through Buffy's window as he and Cordelia are running from the mob of love-spell-crazed women.

**DISCLAIMER**: The few lines of script that I borrowed from "B, B & B" are owned by Joss Whedon and his team of creative geniuses over at Mutant Enemy Inc. They may also be owned by FOX, but I'm a little fuzzy on the copyright details.

In any case, "B, B & B" was written by Marti Noxon, an amazing and talented _Buffy_ writer who worked with _Buffy_ through the entire seven season span. I think she may have also written a few episodes of _Angel_, but I can't be sure. I really hope that she works with Joss on _Dollhouse_, because they seem to be on the same wavelength about a lot of things.

No copyright infringement intended, I make no money, blah blah blah.

**IMPORTANT NOTE I: **_**THIS STORY IS RATED 'M' FOR A REASON – IN THIS CHAPTER THERE WILL BE GORE, SLIGHT NUDITY, SLIGHT SEX, AND VIOLENCE.**_

**IMPORTANT NOTE II: **Because in the episode "Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered" Xander gets dumped _on_ V-Day, gets the spell cast the night _after_ V-Day, and then everything happens the next day, and at the end of the episode there's another day of school left, I've made the assumption that Valentine's Day occurred on either a Monday or a Tuesday that week. For the sake of this story, I picked Tuesday.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter II

_Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered_

_Tuesday, February 14__th__, 1997_

Angelus was walking home slowly, enjoying the…miasma that poured forth from the Hellmouth everywhere in Sunnydale. It gave anything demonic a boost, and tonight he could feel it like the alcohol of his wasted human youth. He patted his coat pocket gently and felt a little squish as the still-warm human heart spurted out a little squirt of blood. The scent reminded him of the sweet little shop girl he'd ripped it out of, and he smiled at the memory.

"_Can I help you, sir?" the little girl asked. She couldn't have been more than fourteen, probably at her first job, so sweet and innocent – her work uniform was layered underneath by an undershirt and a slip, revealing no skin that wasn't decent. His skin positively crawled._

_She looked up at him as they all looked up at him – Angelus, the one with the angelic face, the Watchers called him. He rewarded her with a brilliant smile that could have charmed the birds from their nests, and her little brown eyes lit up. A crush – how disgustingly cute._

"_Yes, I think you can…Fay," he said, reading her nametag. She nodded eagerly. "You see, I need something very _special_ for a Valentine's Day gift, and I need it for someone with very particular tastes."_

"_Oh, we've got all _kinds_ of stuff for Valentine's Day," she said, indicating the gift shop behind her. "I can get you whatever you want!"_

"_Oh, I know," he whispered, a seductive purr underlying his voice. She flushed a bright red, all that hot, innocent blood boiling underneath the guard of her fragile skin, a gift just for him. Surely she would taste as sweet as she looked? He was still smiling when his fist smashed into her chest so hard it broke skin, growling like a tiger as his face shifted into his demon's form._

_It was so _sweet_, the scent of human fear! Surely it was the cage of the soul that made it all seem so much _better_ than his memories! He drank in her fear and felt it shiver deliciously through his being, owning her. He could feel everything as he leaned in and his rough tongue worried at the blood seeping around her innocent little budding breast – the horror, the pain, the terror._

"_You'll do just fine," he whispered before he sank his fangs into her neck. She had time for one last scream that echoed through the empty shop like the wail of a banshee before he ripped her soft little heart straight from her chest._

His victims always received the best gifts for Valentine's Day – was there any greater bond than that of predator and prey? He took his pleasures liberally on this day, so devoted to human happiness. He considered the plans that he would have to put forth for the Slayer and his evil smile widened, remembering that beautiful hurt look that Buffy could never hide from him no matter how hard she tried.

_Oh, yes, something_…special _for Buffy this year_, he thought to himself. _Something she'll _love_!_ It had been more than a week since he'd left that delectable little girl dead in the streets as a token of his affection. It had been fun, but he was itching for the real hurt – like the night after he'd fucked her. Now _that_ had been a work of art.

"_Angel! I love you!" Buffy whispered brokenly, tears falling down her face, her entire being radiating hurt, confusion, pain, heartbreak. He loved every minute of it; could drink her pain in like blood and he itched to unleash his demon upon her, to drink that boiling, powerful font of Slayer's blood as she screamed…_

_But no – he would draw this out. This one was going to be even _better_ than Drusilla. This one was going to _hurt.

"_Yeah, I love you too," he tossed out offhandedly, shrugging a coat on as he strolled nonchalantly out of the apartment. "I'll call you."_

_He smirked in victory and savored the scent of her tears as she collapsed behind him as he shut the door in her face._

Oh, but that had been delicious! Yes, something like that was in order again. He craved the stalk, craved that _look_ in the Slayer's eyes from that night in the mall when she had held the stake, ready to kill him, and simply _couldn't_. He smiled just thinking about it as he silently stepped into the factory where they were holed up. Not for long, though – he hated it here. It was dank and cold, out of the way, nothing like what Angelus preferred.

He frowned as he saw Spike and Drusilla sitting at opposite sides of the long table in the center of the factory. Spike was in a wheelchair and looked as pathetic as a crushed rat. Angelus' features hardened. Spike had kidnapped him in a weakened state after a disastrous run-in with the Jamaican Slayer Kendra, and then tried to kill him in an ancient ritual to bring Drusilla back to health.

It was more than spite at this that kept Angelus from healing him with Sire's blood just yet, though. Spike needed to be taught a lesson – brought to heel, as it were. True, Angelus' reputation had been nearly shattered by that souled pussy's meddling in his body, but he was Angelus, returned to his former strength and glory. He would bring the younger vampire back to where he needed to be and he would accept nothing less. Spike needed to remember that he was _lesser_ than Angelus and always would be.

He smirked as he saw Spike slide a jewelry box across to Drusilla. He should never have allowed his Childe to attempt a Turning without him, but he had. Somehow, William the Bloody had retained too much of his old humanity – but that had always been the curse of the Aurelius line, as Darla had informed him: doomed to be the most human of vampires. He snarled at the thought. He was no human!

Spike was sickeningly devoted to Drusilla, and always had been no matter how capricious Dru could be – hell, he'd only been back for two nights before he'd had his precious dark daughter back in his bed where she belonged. Even _he_ hadn't been that devoted to Darla, and she had made up a true chunk of his undead existence.

Drusilla…his greatest creation. He loved her as much as he hated her; nothing gave him greater pleasure than her pleasure at the same time as nothing gave him more pleasure than her pain. He would never stop hurting her, and she would never stop loving him as much as she hated him. He had created something incredible in Drusilla, something that Darla hadn't been able to appreciate.

He stalked forward as Drusilla lifted up a beautiful gold necklace with a fine chain up from the box. She moaned in approval – Drusilla had always been partial to baubles. The rubies set in the gold would remind her of blood. He had to admit that Spike had chosen well…even though she would of course love Angelus' even more. That was half the point.

"Nothing but the best for my gir—" Spike was saying, but then Angelus emerged from the shadows and reverently set his gruesome gift on the table in front of Drusilla. He smiled beatifically at Spike, gently stroking his bloody fingers over Drusilla's fine, black hair.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Dru," he whispered, his voice deliberately drenched in seduction.

"Oh…_Angel_," she moaned, enraptured. "It's still warm!"

"I knew you'd like it!" Angelus exclaimed, delighted. He smirked as Spike took a deep, unneeded breath in rage and slowly dropped his hand to stroke the fine column of Drusilla's throat. "I found it in a quaint little shop girl." He looked down derisively at Spike's gift. "Cute!" He slowly draped it over Dru's throat, reaching to clasp it.

"Let me," Spike began, rolling forward, but Angelus clasped it anyway.

"Done," he said simply. "I know Dru gives you pity access, but you have to admit it makes things so much easier when I do things for her." He sneered lasciviously at Spike as the younger vampire went white with rage at the memory of Drusilla's screams of agony and ecstasy ringing out from Angelus' bedroom the night before.

"You would do well to worry less about Dru and more about that Slayer you've been tramping around with," Spike snarled, stinging when stung. Angelus' eyes went dark with rage as he remembered Spike's derisive voice – _It made me sick seeing you as the Slayer's lapdog_, the vampire had sneered at him. At HIM! But he would not show his emotions as Spike did. Emotions were what made you weak and ultimately controllable.

"Dear Buffy," he said with a sigh, as if pondering a burden. "I've been wondering the best way to send my regards."

"Why don't you rip her lungs out? Might make an impression," Spike said dryly. That right there annoyed Angelus more than anything. Spike was such a brutal beast, not understanding what it was about being a vampire that was so much _better_, that made immortal life worth living. He didn't understand the value of pain, the ecstasy of suffering. He didn't understand why Angelus had tortured Drusilla the way he had and he'd never understand the pleasure that Angelus and Drusilla experienced together because of that agony.

"Lacks…_poetry_," Angelus said sadly, humiliating Spike even further as he referenced the British vampire's hated past.

"It doesn't have to," Spike said lightly, his voice stinging with hatred and resentment but trying hard not to show it. "What rhymes with 'lung'?" he asked.

"Don't worry, Spike," Drusilla said slowly, her hands hovering over the human heart before her, sensing the girl's pain and despair. Her dark lips slowly curved into a sultry grin. "Angel always knows what speaks to a girl's heart."

**888**

In the end he decided that he simply didn't have enough of a plan in mind to act on it that night. Valentine's Day had occurred on a Tuesday this year, so he still had five days left to launch his attack on Buffy. That wasn't to say that he would ignore the holiday completely, of course.

So he purchased a box of beautiful, blood-red roses and left a message inside them. Then he waited in the shadows outside of Buffy's house. She still hadn't even bothered to magically invoke his invitation, and he wondered at the possibilities of playing on that bit of stupidity. She wanted so badly to believe that he was just a nightmare and that her precious Angel would be back one day.

The shattering of that illusion would be so sweet.

He contemplated killing her defenseless mother as the woman tidied up the kitchen but he decided not to. He would need to pace this more than he had with Drusilla; he didn't want to break Buffy as quickly as he had with Drusilla. Although even the memories of the breaking of his Dru could still inspire him to greater debauchery and bloodlust, he'd learned then that he hadn't drawn it out nearly as much as he could have.

He wouldn't make that mistake with this Slayer.

So instead he messed with her head a little. She knew that he was watching; she knew that he was there. It was enough for now to know that she wouldn't close her eyes for the rest of the night without thinking of him, enough to know that he had shattered another piece of that illusion she still clung to so desperately. He rode on the delicious wave of Buffy's pain all the way back to the factory.

That night he took Drusilla to bed, and felt his orgasm even more satisfactorily as he felt Spike's burning hatred as the other vampire sat across the room, felt Spike wince every time Drusilla screamed in delight at every stroke of the whip, could feel Spike's bitterness and horror as a bloody Dru hungrily rode Angelus' cock until the both of them were yelling their pleasure and drinking from each other in an orgy of blood and sex, falling to sleep in Spike's bed with Spike powerless to do a thing about it.

_Thursday, February 16__th__, 1997_

Angelus woke in his bed earlier than usual. He scowled as he realized that the sun was still at its peak; it couldn't be later than two in the afternoon. What the hell had woken him up at this hour? He looked and noticed that Drusilla was gone from the bed as well. This in itself wouldn't be strange; she could just as easily fuck Spike as she could any other minion in this house, more merely spend the day in a state of trance, ignoring everything around her.

That was when he felt it tingling over every part of his body – magic. Strong magic, too; he felt the electricity in the air and the smell of burnt roses lingered over everything. Something was in the air and it had covered the entire town of Sunnydale. He threw himself out of bed and went out – perhaps one of the minions could identify the source.

He passed by two vampires who he didn't even recognize who both respectfully averted their gazes. He looked down and realized belatedly that he was naked. He shrugged and kept going – _not like there's anything to be ashamed of_, he thought to himself arrogantly.

The factory was quiet, as it should be at this time of the afternoon. Most vampires were asleep at this point – it was only those demons with superior strength that could even make it through an entire day without needing at least a few hours of supernatural sleep to recharge themselves. He followed the sounds and scents of Spike and Drusilla to the main floor of the factory and headed down the stairs.

Drusilla was dressed a dark red dress and was dancing in long, languid, sensuous circles around the main floor, her eyes closed, humming a song he could not name to herself. She was in one of her trances; he could tell. It was likely the magic in the air that had set this one off – now that he was fully awake he could feel it permeating the air even more. Spike was watching, managing to look exasperated, protective and loving all at once.

Angelus was almost loathe to break the silence. There were times like this when he remembered how much potential William had had, how much of that potential he had already lived up to – not even two hundred years old and two Slayers dead! Spike had knack for surviving, which Angelus could appreciate, and a strong core despite his many weaknesses. Yes, no matter how much he needed to bring Spike back under his control, he could recognize that Spike could be a formidable enemy.

He shook his head, annoyed at the thoughts. He was much more given to the contemplation of things like clan bonds after his century of curse-driven foolishness, and he wanted none of it.

Spike looked up as Angelus walked in and Angelus could smell the arousal as Spike perused his naked body in a flickering eye scan but then quickly looked away, holding onto his hot and bitter rage. Not in the mood to deal with this, Angelus chose to ignore it. He could rub the mutual attraction in Spike's face another day. The spell was strengthening as time went on, and there was no telling what an enchantment like this could do on a Hellmouth.

"Does she See anything?" Angelus asked, nodding towards Drusilla. Spike didn't have to ask what he was talking about; he could feel the magic in the air as well as Angelus.

"No. She won't say anything to me but gibberish; I got 'dark puppy' and 'encantada' but that was about it," Spike said grudgingly after a moment. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Angelus after a second of consideration. Angelus nodded gracefully and lit up, enjoying the burn of the smoke and the rush of the nicotine.

"_Encantada_?" Angelus asked after a moment. "Isn't that Spanish?"

"Yeah. Means 'sing' or some such." A drag on his cigarette, and then "You got half a clue what she's talkin' about?"

"No. Figured she'd have told you. You were always better at picking up on what she Sees than I was," Angelus responded. Spike eyed him in surprise, clearly wondering whether this was a backhanded compliment or not. When Angelus merely took another pull on the cigarette Spike gave him a guarded nod.

"Oh, daddy!" Drusilla said, enraptured, as if just noticing that they were there. She'd stopped spinning for a moment to throw her arms wide and stare up at the ceiling. "Oh, daddy, it sings and it sings and it sings!" She giggled and clapped her hands as she sat down in Spike's lap, leaning back into his embrace.

"What do you See, Dru?" Angelus asked eagerly. Drusilla's visions had a tendency to reveal the darker portents, and he wondered if she'd maybe seen whoever cast this spell. Witch this strong, he figured if he could hunt them down the drinking would give him a buzz for weeks.

"I see _you_," Drusilla whispered conspiratorially. Her eyes were leeched of her madness for the moment, large and black and regal. There were times when she was caught up in spinning prophesy and magic that he would see a glimpse of her true power, that he would understand that in some ways she was stronger than all of them.

"What do you see about dear daddy, ducks?" Spike asked, stroking her chin. Drusilla smirked and nipped at Spike's lower lip.

"Dru," Angelus snarled impatiently.

"I see that you will be captured by _love_," she spit out contemptuously. She rose and stalked towards him and he growled warningly, but she took no more notice of him than a misbehaving dog. "Oh, yes, you will lose yourself and lose us all…oh, Angel…" Her voice suddenly changed from attacking to whimpering, her step faltered, her hands going to her forehead as she rubbed uselessly. "Oh…his blood _sings_…his blood signs and sings with power and power and fire and…and…"

"What is it, Dru?" Angelus asked, stepping towards her, but she shied away from him like a skittish horse.

"_Le vetus unos vie en ile!"_ she shrieked, jerking away from him before she collapsed to her knees, clutching her head in pain. Neither Spike nor Angelus could spare time to look after her, however – her words rang in Angelus' ears like thunder. _The Old Ones live in him_, she'd said. The Old Ones – the true demons, the masters of this world, banished to Hell eons ago. The very thought of finding one of the ancient bloodlines…

But could he trust her visions? He, Angelus, ensnared by _love_? The very thought was sickening. Blood singing…surely not…that was just a myth…

Drusilla suddenly leapt up from the floor and stormed towards the hole in the floor at the far end of the factory he and Buffy had left when he'd still had his soul and they had been running as fast as they could to get away from the Judge. He still couldn't quite believe that – the Judge, the mythical juggernaut of the demon world! No matter how powerful the enormous blue demon had been, no matter how much pain Buffy was in and how weak she was, she had shown up at Sunnydale Mall bearing a rocket launcher and an attitude and before anyone could say a word she'd blasted the thing to smithereens.

"Dru," Spike began hesitantly, but she spun on her heel and her demonic face burst out as she roared violently.

"He's _mine_!" Drusilla screamed furiously, before she dropped into the sewers. Before either of them could say a word her scent faded as she sprinted through the tunnels, away from them without a backward glance.

"Well…that was…unexpected," Spike said after a moment, but Angelus couldn't pay him any mind. All that rang through his head was Drusilla's words.

"I'm going on the hunt tonight," he said absently. "I still owe the Slayer a Valentine's Day gift, after all."

But somehow, the thought of his vengeance wasn't all-important. Suddenly the stalking of the Slayer wasn't at the forefront of his mind, as it had been this last month. He had to find Drusilla, find her and make her talk, make her tell him exactly what she'd Seen.

He turned abruptly and left the main floor as he hurried back to his room to dress, leaving Spike alone to stare after him in hatred, sorrow, longing and self-disgust all at once. But Spike's eyebrow was also cocked as he considered the implications of Drusilla's words. _Interesting_, the blond vampire thought to himself, and slowly he smiled, likely the first real smile he'd had since Angelus had blown back into town.

**888**

Angelus left the factory as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. He didn't like travelling through the sewer system unless absolutely necessary – and he knew that the vile stench would have already obliterated Drusilla's scent. He could probably pick it up again if he really tried, but there were far easier ways to track, and also far less disgusting. He took a deep breath of the air and allowed his feet to pick the direction the scent was leading him.

He wasn't particularly surprised to find that the closer he got to Dru, the closer he seemed to be getting to the source of the magic in the air. The lilting scent of burning roses was getting stronger and stronger, and he knew from experience that that meant the enchantment was strengthening as time went on.

He thought back to Drusilla's behavior in the factory; indeed, he'd been pondering little else this day. Drusilla was obsessed with him; he'd made damn sure of that. She loathed and feared him as much as her entire world revolved around him. She'd never gone against him before, ever, and the fact that she had challenged him face to face was profoundly troubling. If this spell was what had made Dru act as she had, it would be his duty as her Sire to eliminate the threat, both to her and to him. Thought he knew that he could defeat her if absolutely necessary, Angelus didn't fancy the thought of Dru as an enemy.

At least now he had a _reason_ to hunt down the witch and drain her dry. Before, he would have done it merely for the pleasure of her blood, now she posed something of a threat to him and would need to be killed. He smiled at the thought.

But thoughts of his Childe and the spell couldn't quash the other thoughts that had been buzzing through his mind like a cloud of midges for the better part of this day. _"His blood _sings_…"_ Drusilla had raved that day. Mayhap Spike had misunderstood this for delusional vision-babble, but Angelus could think of a different reason that this had crossed her mind. Of course, it was impossible, but still, the very thought of it being a possibility sent tingles of pleasure radiating through him.

_Le cruor ut sono_, as the legends went. _The blood that sings_. He had heard tell of it in a demonic enclave in Europe some time in the 1800's, and had asked Darla about it that night.

"_Darla," he said, his taloned hands making an enormous "A" on the lush skin of her pale back. They were in an enormous bed in an old house – the owners were still downstairs, the wife still alive. They'd had to gag her to stop her screaming after what they'd done to her husband. Darla lay on her stomach, gloriously naked, her golden hair spread out on the pillows around her. His Sire had said she wanted to rest on silk sheets that night. She shivered as her cool blood, thick with the essence of immortality, began to flow from the wound. Angelus watched, mesmerized, as it began leaking toward her plump breasts._

"_Mmmm?" she murmured lazily, but moaned in pleasure as he leaned down to slowly lap up the blood, groaning at the charge that Sire's blood gave to him._

"_What's a 'cruor aduro'?" he asked, gently stroking the fine hairs on the back of her neck._

"_Where on earth did you hear about _that_ nonsense?" she asked with a bit of a giggle._

"_At the bar. There was a crazy old vampire raving about it – I wanted to stake him but one of his Childers shut him up before I got annoyed enough," he said, watching as the wound began to heal under his tongue._

"_Uh," she sighed. He grinned against her skin and she tilted her head to look at him. Her face was in its human guise and her icy blue eyes were warm now with arousal. "The Cruor Aduro is an old vampire fairy tale. I asked the Master about it when I was young and he laughed about it," she recalled. He didn't say anything; the Master was not a favorite subject among either of them. Although he knew that she loved him, abandoning her Sire was hard for her._

_It was made easier by learning from some brethren of Aurelius, the Master's vampire cult that devoted itself to ritual and prophesy, that the Master had easily forgiven his favored Childe, and the tales of her impertinent Childe's cruelty had also reached his ears. Should either of them grow tired of the human world, they both had open places at the top of the vampiric hierarchy in the Master's court assured for them._

"_Vampire fairy tale?" he prompted her after a moment. She sighed and sat up, careless of her nudity. She eyed him for a moment and smirked at his erection before leaning back against the pillows, smearing the sheets with a few stray drops of blood._

"_The Blood Singer, that's what it's called," she explained. "It's sort of like the Greek sirens for vampires, but more than that. As the story goes, for every vampire there is one human in the vampire's entire immortal lifetime that is fated to be their Cruor Aduro. If the vampire can find and Claim the mortal, then they are bound together and the mortal is made immortal for as long as the vampire lives._

"_According to legend," she went on, sounding rather bored, "the blood of the Cruor Aduro is the most delicious of all blood for their particular vampire. The vampire need only take a sip of the fount and they will slake the bloodlust for weeks. To have a Cruor Aduro also fills the vampire with power; a vampire who drinks from his Cruor Aduro will be stronger and faster than a vampire who merely drinks mortal blood – sort of like drinking the blood of a Slayer."_

"_And it's not true at all?" he asked curiously. It sounded intriguing._

"_Of course not," she said irritably. "It's just an old story. There are, however, as you have witnessed, some fools in the vampire world who believe it. They have all of immortality facing them, and they waste it all searching for a legend that doesn't exist. Some of them are driven mad, the weaklings," she said derisively. "Why – you going to go search for your human singer, Angel?" She sneered at him and he crawled seductively towards her. She smirked in arousal._

"_What need would I have of them when I own you?" he asked with a smirk of his own. She angrily tried to assert her own dominance but she shut up when he slammed his full, thick length inside of her, and instead she screamed in pleasure. He laughed and bit down hard on her neck as she did the same to him. At the end of the day, he owned them all…_

Snapping back to the present, he shook his head angrily. Darla had been right – it was just a stupid story and he was stupid to fixate on it like this. Just thinking of Darla was a secret hell – the mere thought of her ending could almost stagger him. He had murdered his own _Sire_ to prove his love for a _Slayer_!

He was nearing the Summers house, anyway, and he allowed his rage at the Slayer's sympathetic face as she stared at the dust of Darla to fill him as he stormed towards his wayward Childe. The Slayer would get a taste of his rage tonight, he thought – maybe an accident with her mother? Not enough to _kill_ Mrs. Summers, no, just…_harm_ her. Take away that safe bastion that he knew Buffy clung to, oh _yes_ she would cry about that.

He felt a little better as he thought about the Slayer's pain, and some of the red haze of red lifted as he surveyed the house. The scent of the spell was everywhere here, saturated. He snorted. Of course one of the Slayer's stupid humans was behind this. That audacious band of infants had no idea the powers they were fooling with. He remembered them all with a special sort of disgust. Willow, the little mousy redhead, had been starting to study a bit of magic with the computer teacher, he remembered.

Looking up at the house, he was caught by movement in Buffy's bedroom. It wasn't her, there were two people and their shapes weren't the Slayer's lithe little body. He moved a little closer and saw that they were the two purely human and most annoying of the Slayer's little gaggle, Cordelia Chase and Xander Harris.

Cordelia, reluctant Scooby and rich bitch extraordinaire. He remembered her with a bit of admiration. She was completely shameless in her quest to get everything she wanted and more. She was brutally honest and never had a problem getting in your face if she felt like it. She had a floral scent that he appreciated as he contemplated her luscious curves. _She'd make one hell of a vampire_, he thought to himself. But he knew even as he thought it that she wasn't who he was here for.

Xander Harris, the Slayer's white knight. The little boy with the big mouth who never knew when to shut up and couldn't respect Angelus, even when he was that souled pussy "Angel." He remembered with clenched fists when Xander had stormed uninvited into his apartment and shoved a cross into his face, demanding that he take him to the Master. He'd been torn between admiration, respect and annoyance at the boy, which was usual.

There was infinite possibility with Xander, he decided in an instant. Xander was exactly his type, just like Drusilla; it would be easy to torture Xander, it would be easy to break him. Xander's parents were obviously neglectful and abusive, and he was constantly trying to prove that he wasn't worthless to his friends. He hated himself in ways that his friends would never understand; in some ways, Xander was the perfect victim. But he also had a unique core of strength that told him it would be a pleasurable and delicious challenge to shatter the boy.

Then, of course, there was the matter of Xander's little secret.

Xander was gay, or at the very least bisexual. Angelus could always smell the secret attraction that arose from the boy when he was around. Xander desperately tried to prove that he wasn't, over and over, and Angelus suspected that fear of his father had motivated him into being the classic "gay-panic" closet case. Boy couldn't deal with the fact that he was a natural submissive; Angelus could sense the boy's need to be taken care of in a relationship.

Xander had reacted to Angel with hatred and anger, but Angelus had always known the tension between them had been more than just mutual dislike. Oh, if little Xander only knew the number of lonely nights when thinking of Buffy just wasn't getting the job done and a guilt-stricken Angel would jerk off thinking of Xander's submissive little want-filled glances whenever they were together.

And hell, it wasn't as if the boy was unattractive, Angelus thought. There was clearly a lot more muscle than he let on under his clothes; soft dark hair and big puppy eyes that were always a turn-on for Angelus, especially in boys. The boy's lips begged to be kissed, and that ass…oh, Xander had a nice, round rump that Angelus could just see himself fucking into. The boy gave off a lovely amount of body heat; he could just tell that the boy's passage would be hot and tight…

And his _scent_! It was indescribable, really; a mix of blood and sex and something deliciously ethereal that was just…_Xander_. He knew what he was going to do – kill two birds with one stone! He'd fuck Xander and fuck with his mind a little and send him back to Buffy. Xander held the little Scooby Gang together more than the others knew; if Buffy and Xander had a falling-out not only would it hurt both of them but it would weaken the Slayer even more.

Smiling at the thought, Angelus easily leapt up to the porch roof that Buffy's window looked down on. Both he and the Slayer made use of this to get in and out of the house without anyone knowing. He leaned in and he could smell the magic out of the room. Either Xander or Cordelia was the source of the spell, and he was going to go with Xander. Cordelia was too smart to mess with the black arts…_his_ boy, however—

MY _boy?! Since when is Xander _my_ boy?_ Angelus thought, startled. It was strange how the possessive term felt…_right_. He shook himself vigorously. This entire night had been strange beyond measure. He needed bloodshed, he decided, needed bloodshed and gore, get his head straight and back on the wagon. He crept towards the window.

"Good, the mob still hasn't found us yet," Xander was saying as he turned back from the window. Mob? _Interesting_, Angelus thought, leaning closer. "We should be safer up here."

"Works in theory," Angelus sing-songed from behind him, and he savored that moment of overwhelming terror pouring from the whelp and all the blood draining from Cordelia's face as he locked his arms around Xander's neck and dragged him out the window.

"Xander!" Cordelia yelled, panicked.

"Where's Buffy?" Angelus asked Xander calmly, enjoying Xander squirming against him as he desperately tried to break free.

"Cordy, get outta here!" Xander yelled desperately, and Angelus smirked at Xander's overwhelmingly protective nature even in the face of death and torture. He had a sudden thought of what it would be like to have that protectiveness focused on him and he was annoyed with himself at the bolt of pleasure that shot through him at that thought.

He tossed Xander off the roof and watched him fall. Angelus smiled in satisfaction as Xander groaned in pain when he landed on the ground with a hard _thud_. He just knew that his boy's back would be all lovely black and blue with bruises the next morning and relished the fact that every time they twinged Xander would be reminded of _him_. He leapt down after him, landing easily on his feet above Xander's head.

Xander recovered quicker than he'd thought, though, and the boy slammed his fist into Angelus' groin. Angelus roared in pain and anger as Xander surged unsteadily to his feet and tried to run. He charged after the whelp and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like a cat, turning him around and slamming his fist into Xander's face. Xander yelped in pain and Angelus felt a slight spray of blood spatter his chin. He grinned wolfishly as the delicious scent of Xander's blood, spiced by fear and arousal, scented the air.

"Perfect," he mused aloud as he surveyed Xander's trembling body. "I wanted to do something special for Buffy – actually, _to_ Buffy – but this is _so_ much better!" He grasped Xander by the throat and threw him onto the ground. Xander gazed up at him in a dazed sort of terror, his wide, puppy dog eyes expressing all of his emotions like an aerial.

Angelus slowly knelt down, running his finger through Xander's hair gently. Xander stared up at him in shock and not a little bit of arousal and Angelus smirked as he leaned in, his lips brushing Xander's ear as he whispered seductively in Xander's ear, relishing the resulting full-body shiver that it caused: "If it's any consolation, I feel very _close_ to you right now."

The punch to the face took him completely off-guard.

Angelus flew backward, growling in pain as he slammed forcefully into the trunk of the large oak tree outside of the Summers' home. He threw himself to his feet, stalking toward his attacker, rage simmering off of him in waves. He was the Master of the Hellmouth, the Scourge of Europe and he'd show the—

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Drusilla picking Xander up carefully, making sure that he was alright. "Don't fret, kitten, mummy's here," she purred soothingly, running her fingers down Xander's face. Angelus froze, stunned, as Xander looked like he was about to wet himself.

"I don't know what you're up to, Dru, but it _doesn't_ amuse!" Angelus snarled, enraged. He shook the shock off of him and took a step toward her. She was going to _hurt_ tonight. She growled threateningly at him and he snarled right back.

"If you hurt one hair on this boy's head…" she whispered, trailing off meaningfully, her yellow eyes glowing with malice.

"You've _got_ to be kidding – him?" Angelus said derisively.

"Just because I've finally found myself a _real_ man…" she responded cuttingly, and Angelus fell back. Something was very wrong here.

"I guess I really _did_ drive you crazy," he commented absently, watching as she turned Xander toward her and starting running her hands through his fine dark hair. He felt a bolt of jealousy as she touched _his_ prey, and he shook himself.

"Your face is a poem," she whispered in rapture to Xander as she swayed like a hypnotic snake. "I can read it."

"Really?" Xander asked, trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Does it say 'spare me' by any chance?"

"Shh," she said gently, kissing him lightly on the lips. "How do you feel about eternal life?" she asked eagerly.

"We couldn't just start with a coffee? A movie, maybe?" Xander stammered, terrified.

"THERE HE IS!!!!" screamed about seventy girls. Angelus whirled around, staring in shock as what looked like the entire female population of Sunnydale, of all ages, pointed straight at Xander Harris like he was the only drink of water in a scorching desert. And then it all clicked in Angelus' head: Love spell gone wrong. He started chuckling to himself as, if it were possible, Xander got even paler. He started to laugh as the wave of women charged down on Xander, some of them in tears – Hell, he even saw Willow waving an axe above Xander's head, screaming about betrayal. He was positively howling with laughter as the High School's lunch lady bumrushed Xander and tried to smother him with kisses. Priceless, even for a Hellmouth.

He watched as Cordelia snatched Xander up and dragged him back into the house, slamming the door in the crowd's faces. His eyes were bright as he sat back to think. Dru would have to be punished, of course, for her defiance, but all in all, this looked like it would prove to be the funniest night of Angelus' long life.

The door didn't stop the girls, however; Drusilla led them to the back and kicked the rear door so hard that it flew into the back wall. Dru was forced to stop, however, when the invitation barrier kicked in.

"Sorry, Dru," Angelus said with a mocking sigh. "Guess you're not invited." He chuckled as she whirled on him with a furious expression on her demonic visage, and turned away from her. He was done here for the night…

It was then that he remembered the fine spray of blood that had sprayed from Xander onto his chin. His face twisted to its true countenance, and he swiped a rough, cat-like tongue down along his chin.

One small drop of blood, perched at the end of his tongue, dripping down his throat, and Angelus roared in something akin to agony and ecstasy and collapsed to his knees as if he'd been punched in the chest by a massive fist. He was on _fire_, his whole body heated by that one drop, burning through his system like ambrosia! Angelus fell backward, slamming down onto his back as the blood flamed through his body, igniting a fire of lust and love and hatred and want and longing and gods it hurt but it was so damn good that he never wanted it to stop and oh Christ!

He shuddered in rolling aftershocks as he came in his pants, the last droplets of blood trickling down his throat.

_Cruor Aduro_, a soft voice that was not his own whispered in his mind, and he quaked. He could still feel his orgasm shaking him down to his toes; the demon within was practically purring in contentment and all he wanted to do was chase Xander back and abscond with him to the nearest flat surface where he could fuck him hard and send them both over the brink of oblivion, never to return.

No slave to his passions and no slave to the curiously seductive voice whispering in the back of his mind to find his boy, Claim him and keep him, Angelus whirled and sprinted from the lawn of the Slayer's house, leaving Xander within. The air churned and the stink of magic hit a high peak before it burst into the air like static electricity, dissipating as quickly as it had come on.

The spell was over.

_Wednesday, March 25__th__, 1997_

Angelus' mind wandered over that fateful night once more as he surveyed the balcony before him. There were only three other people up there: a couple too busy making out to notice much, and a lonely looking woman who looked like she'd been in her cups for a while now. Xander was leaning on the rail of the balcony, looking down at the Bronze, lost in thought.

He'd noticed Xander's fear-filled anticipation as he'd glanced around the shadows of the Bronze before making his excuses and leaving his friends behind and it filled him with satisfaction that the boy was already so hyperaware of his presence. _As well he should be_, Angelus thought to himself. His stalking of Xander these past two weeks had been carefully planned and controlled, each step leading closer and closer to this night.

Angelus had allowed all of Sunnydale a false sense of security as he left the running of the Hellmouth's vampiric population in Drusilla's hands. He'd vanished from the world for nearly two solid weeks, but they hadn't been wasted. There had been too _much_ in the boy's blood for the power held within it to be entirely explained away by the _Cruor Aduro_ myth. That had been there in spades, of course, and he could still feel the erotic electricity of it racing through his system.

But there had been something else there – old, strong magic, the kind that you rarely saw at work in this world anymore. It was masking something else, something stranger that tasted ancient and too powerful to describe…something _demonic_, that Xander himself may not have been aware of but that Angelus knew the boy _knew_, somehow, but buried it deep in his subconscious.

Angelus had spent the first three days in utter solitude, making his plans and meditating. The sources that he was planning on summoning were not to be fooled with and they would not bargain with him in his agitation. He'd had to sacrifice three girls before the demonic oracle would even come to him, and when it heard what he wanted to know, it had demanded that he spill his own blood, the blood of five innocents, and the blood of five demons.

That was when he knew that something was at work here so old and strong that even the strongest of the demons trembled before it. It filled him with excitement but it also clicked with what he had already begun to figure out, cursed with a soul as he had been. Angelus remembered Buffy telling him about Xander's luck with women – a giant preying mantis, an Incan mummy, love spells going strange around him, demons that always seemed bent on claiming Xander when the boy was in the vicinity…

They sensed the power, obviously, even if they did not know what it was. They wanted it for themselves.

The night of the full moon, Angelus slit the throat of five little orphans he'd kidnapped that night from the homeless shelter in one of the more higher-income parts of Los Angeles. He had lured five idiotic vampires before him and slit their throats as well. Then he finally sliced into his palm and allowed the blood to mingle before the enormous oak tree where Jadyn would be waiting.

He had waited more than an hour before the blood stench finally soaked into the tree, whispering the ancient words until the demon slowly materialized in front of him. Jadyn was a small creature, fragile looking with sickly green skin. Her eyes were the yellow of corn, and in the center of her forehead was a brilliant red jewel. No one knew how Jadyn had ensorcelled herself to become a true Seer, but within her tiny body was the power of the old gods, and one of her brittle-looking fingers could end his existence in the space between human heartbeats.

She drank of her sacrifice and surprised him by asking, in her whispery voice, "Are you certain that you want the answers to this riddle, vampire?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously. He'd felt the drain on his powers when she'd drank the blood before her and knew that she was going to work a spell over him more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. What the hell was going on with Xander that was _this_ important?

"Some answers lost to antiquity _should_ be lost," she said simply.

"I need to know," he said flatly. Damn the consequences, as he always had done. He was the master of masters and he could do this thing, damn it, and he could Claim his boy and rule.

"Very well, young fool," she said softly. "It is very few times that I get excited about a fortune I will brew, but you? Your death will be _very_ interesting." Her words echoed his to Buffy from months before – _Things are about to get _very_ interesting_ – and he had faint moment of uneasiness before she smiled nastily. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," she quoted with a smirk.

Before he could say another word she began to chant in a harsh old language, the moon shining down on them bright enough to hurt and he felt his skin tingling and then buzzing and then he was screaming in pain as white-hot fire shot over his entire _being_, and the air was filled with screams as the five vampires burned into dust and the dead human children burned to ashes, and suddenly he was…_gone_.

He was floating in the moonbeams, and he knew somehow that his body was somewhere below him, on the ground. He couldn't be bothered; all he knew was that he was floating onward, onward into the mother's arms and then he was gone, gone, gone.

**888**

He'd woken up one week later in an old alley, naked, with his entire body throbbing, shivering in thirst and bloodlust. He felt weak and old and tired, and he all that he could remember of his experience was that he'd been both blessed and cursed with _knowledge_, the knowledge of everything, more knowledge than any being had a right to know, and it had been awesome and terrifying.

He couldn't remember all but a few basic points of the answer to his question, and one prophesy that Jadyn's voice had chanted into his ears, over and over until he had it more than memorized, he would never forget it:

_From the ashes of saints and the fires of Hell_

_One will be born of purest dark and purest light_

_And he will be the Doorway_

_And he will have to choose between the two_

_For only one born with a foot in both worlds_

_Will have the strength to bear the Child of Light_

_The Phoenix will rise_

_And he will choose which world to burn._

**888**

It had taken him two full days to return home. He'd staggered into a small church on the way home, still naked, his demon's face out and snarling like a caged tigers. The humans screamed and tried to protect their spouses and children but he fell on them without much care. By the time he'd drained six of them he could feel all of his strength returning and then some. He could have left them alive, but what would the point of that be?

So he'd glutted himself, but he hadn't stayed long enough to torture them. Instead, he'd murdered them all – snapped necks, crushed hearts, he'd even endured the pain of touching a wooden cross to ram it into the pastor's horrified heart. It had put him in a much better mood, and he'd stolen some clothes and a set of car keys to get him to Sunnydale all the faster.

For the next two and a half weeks, he'd dropped all of his other activities. Following his instructions, his confused minions continued to act as if he were still out of town. Drusilla was enjoying the game immensely, too much, if truth be told, and he had a suspicion that she knew exactly what was going on. He'd told the rest that he was lulling the Slayer into a false sense of security, but Drusilla merely eyed him cannily and spent most of her nights in Spike's bed again.

Spike was noticing, too, and Angelus couldn't help but be thankful that that particular viper was no longer too interested in poisoning the entire nest.

For that entire two weeks, his focus was on Xander, and Xander alone. Xander would wake up to find little presents outside his window, on his front porch. Dead animals that his would-be suitor would kill for him. Money, still stained with the blood of its original owner, before Angelus had killed them. Sketches and paintings of him, of Angelus, of him and Angelus together.

Angelus stalked Xander everywhere he went, sometimes allowing the boy to catch glimpses of him so that Xander would know the fear of the prey. Angelus put it out to the local demonic underground that should any harm befall Xander Harris, the perpetrator would suffer the most inhumane tortures that Angelus could possibly visit upon them. By then, Angelus' reputation as an artist of torture was well known, so the demons and vampires of Sunnydale took the threat seriously.

By the end of the two weeks he knew that Xander couldn't even sleep well at night – Angelus had never known that spending nights outside Xander's window would be so _interesting_. The boy was fascinating when all of his walls were down – so innocent and sweet and vulnerable. It made him even more eager to have the boy in his house.

He knew that Xander hadn't said a thing to Buffy, and he knew that the boy never would. This was between them two and them two alone, and they both knew it.

Angelus finally felt ready with his plan – with the Slayer more relaxed than she'd been in months, he knew exactly where she would go and where she would take her friends: the Bronze. And what better place was there, than that private, dark little haven where you could lose yourself in shadows than for his capture of one Alexander Harris?

He assembled his forces and gave them their instructions, never specifying why. He put them under Drusilla's command and then he delivered a single red rose outside of Xander's window, with a handwritten note tied to it in black ribbon. It merely said _Tonight_. Angelus had watched possessively as Xander slowly took the rose into his room that morning and stared at it numbly.

Angelus had grinned in triumph and gone to hide from the cruel sun.

And as soon as the Scoobies had been out after sundown, Angelus stalked. He hunted his prey, his mate, his boy. The possessiveness and lust for the boy's blood had been driving him insane, and he counted it as an achievement that his self-control had lasted for so long. For he had no doubt that Xander would be his tonight. All it would take would be for Angelus to push the right buttons with his newfound information…and what a simple matter that would be, for a Master such as himself.

When the Slayer and her faithful Slayerettes had suggested a trip to the Bonze, Angelus had grinned a feral smile, and he watched, waiting in the shadows of the Bronze's corner. He had watched as his clever boy became aware of the eyes on his back, eyes watching his every move. Eyes that narrowed when one of the girls _his_ boy was dancing with pressed too close. Eyes that took in Xander's fear-mixed arousal, and smiled.

And eyes that rejoiced when Xander broke away from his friends, heading up to the mostly empty upper level of the Bronze.

And so, with no Slayer to block him or friend to help, Angelus slowly stalked up the stairs, smiling as he saw his boy standing away from everyone else. Angelus watched as Xander stiffened, hyperaware of his presence. Angelus grinned wolfishly as he leaned in close to Xander's ear and whispered, "Hello, lover."

**A/N**: Tah-dah! I was rereading this chapter and I realized that it need the most help of all of it, and I just love this so much better. If I was blogging right now my mood would be marked as "accomplished." I'm sorry that it was so long but the chapters are going to get a little shorter after this until we hit the epically long chapters later.

Rest assured that I _am_ already working on Chapter XX, but it's more important to me now that the entire story be copacetic and non-contradictory, so I'm going to finish updating these chapters before I post that one.

After this chapter I will be reduxing all three parts of "The Balcony Scene" before I'm satisfied, so check those next for more _Passion_ goodness!

I hope you enjoyed and please read and review!


	4. III The Balcony Scene, Part I

A/N: So, here I am, the day before Christmas and writing a dark/tragic romance type thing while waiting for my dad to hurry up and make T-Bone steaks for lunch (I love my dad). And so, like I promised, here is the Balcony Scene (finally), where secrets are revealed – though not all the secrets: that would just ruin it, wouldn't it?

Distribution? No one's ever wanted something of mine for their site, but it'd be cool to have a story on more than one site. Feel free as long as you tell me who you are and where it's going (I'd like to see it on the other web page, you know).

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_chapter III_

The Balcony Scene, Part I

Xander was unconsciously moving with the beat.

This was where he'd always liked best in the Bronze, even when he'd come here with Willow and Jesse, and then Buffy after Jesse had died. Friends were great, but Xander savoured the small moments when he could get away for a while and have a small amount of space to himself. Then he'd dive right back in with his friends…it was a sweet deal, and nobody ever cottoned on to Xander's bouts of the occasional brood.

Of course, thinking of brooding always made him think of Angel, and Angel was what was making him wig out lately in the first place, so it was all the better that he had these moments alone.

His hips swayed lightly with the easy rhythm of the R&B style song, some popular tune from the radio…Never An Easy Way by something or other, he thought after a moment.

_Good song_, he thought to himself.

And he never saw the demon come up from behind him.

Angelus grinned savagely as he shifted to his true vampire countenance. Add that to the tiger-like snarl that emanated from the space between his vicious fangs, the scattered few other humans on this level of the Bronze decided to make themselves scarce. When they were alone on the balcony, Angelus stalked slowly toward his boy.

He watched, leering slightly as Xander's delectable ass moved unconsciously to the beat of the song on the DJ's box. He had a brief image of himself grabbing Xander's hips hard enough to bruise and just slamming himself into the tight heat of Xander's passage, biting his boy and completing the Claim that he so wanted. _Cruor Aduro_, his mind chanted as the scent of Xander's intoxicating blood wafted toward Angelus.

He stepped slowly forward, never once moving from what the Slayer had deemed his "game-face." Xander would learn who he was dealing with – Angelus was possessive enough to know that once he had Xander seduced and in his proper place, he would never scream for Soul-boy – it would be _him_, Angelus, the demon that the boy would yelp for as he took it from his Mate.

Buffy followed Willow as the redhead moved to sit down at one of the little café-style tables near the snack bar of the Bronze.

"So, we here to talk about you and Oz or about Xander's wiggy-ness lately?" Buffy asked nonchalantly, before the worried-looking novice-witch could open her mouth. Willow had recently begun training with Jenny Calendar to study magick – it turned out that Willow had a natural skill with it, and was picking up on concepts faster than even Giles had anticipated. Willow's natural empathy had been sharpened, and she picked up on emotions very easily lately. Particularly from her friends; she had been worried about Xander far longer than either Buffy or Giles.

Buffy felt a flash of guilt at that. Xander was one of her best friends; hell, he'd brought her back to _life_ after she'd drowned in the Master's underground lair last year. She'd thought lately that she should have been able to pick up on Xander's weirdness before Willow had sounded the alert to her and Giles.

"Not much else to talk about on the Oz front," Willow said with a small smile that Buffy returned in full. Willow was one of the sweetest girls that Buffy had ever known, and her relationship with Oz had really helped to bring her out of her shyness-induced spell – that and Cordelia Chase's unexpected friendship after her sudden induction to the Scooby Gang and her apparent ability for fighting evil. Hadn't _that_ one been a shock?

"But that's okay. It's Xander I'm worried about," Willow said, her look of concern very pronounced. Buffy nodded, not sure what to say, willing to let her friend go on. "His…_vibes_, I'd guess you'd call them, have been…_off_, since that whole love-whammy thing," Willow started hesitantly. "It's like, when we're out on patrol with you, he's more nervous and afraid than usual. Or when he'll just turn around at all those random moments—"

"Like he's being watched," Buffy cut in, sitting back quietly. Willow's eyes widened as she saw the dark turn that her friend's thoughts had taken.

"You don't think that…" Willow trailed off, unsure how to put it. Buffy looked at her helplessly, and Willow found that she had to continue. "That…_Angel_ is harassing Xander now, do you?" she asked. Buffy flinched a little at the mention of her ex-lover's name.

"Well, first he went after you," Buffy said after a pregnant pause, "and then your fish, and then after my mom…he hasn't done much to _me_," she continued, with a sigh. "He seems to want to hurt me through my friends. I'm worried," she finished tiredly.

"Yeah," Willow said softly, putting a comforting hand on Buffy's arm. Buffy gave her a soft smile, but she still pulled herself back together. Buffy was an unusual Slayer, true, but she valued her friends, and she would rather die than let anything happen to them.

"So, what can we do? I mean, how can we be sure unless he tells us?" Buffy asked, suddenly business-like. Willow looked around her nervously.

"Actually…" she began hesitantly, "I think that I have an idea, if I can get it past Miss Calendar and Giles…it's kinda risky," Willow said. Buffy's eyes narrowed, and then they widened as the Wiccan leant forward and whispered in Buffy's ear.

Xander was oblivious to this, as oblivious as he was to Angelus' approach. He nodded his head once or twice, a discreet means of trying to rid himself of an approaching headache. He'd had them a lot lately, more so whenever he got around a demon…

_Or a demon that wasn't Angelus_.

He quashed the thought before it was even fully formed. He refused to admit to himself that the headaches tended to go away whenever Angelus was around, or whenever the vampire left another one of his "gifts." No matter if it was true, it was just something that Xander wasn't ready to deal with.

Xander's heart nearly exploded when a cold hand covered his mouth, effectively stopping the strangled yell that nearly tore itself from his surprised throat.

"Hello, lover," a silky-smooth voice whispered in his ear. _Lover?_ Xander thought wildly. The grip around his mouth and the other hand on his hip tightened meaningfully. "I'm going to let you go now," Angelus informed him, still in that calm, damningly _intimate_ whisper right in his ear. "If you attempt to scream or attract the Slayer's attention in any way, Spike and Drusilla are going to tear your little redhead apart," he said conversationally.

"And I'll make you watch."

Xander nodded frantically, his only thought to protect Buffy and Willow – even at the cost of his own life. He felt Angelus chuckle, a deep sound that reminded him even more of a giant cat, against his back; and it send shivers skittering up and down his nerve endings.

"Good pet," Angelus said, his voice completely complementary. Xander made to turn his head, maybe to toss a sarcastic retort over his shoulder, but a cool hand on his neck, just a gentle, almost seductive stroke made him stop.

"No, Xander," Angelus murmured into his ear. "I want you to look at your friends. Look at them long and hard, and then tell me what you see," he whispered, his lips practically brushing Xander's sensitive earlobes with every quietly spoken word.

And Xander could do nothing but obey. Angelus' eyes were like the hypnotic gaze of the viper, and Xander was losing himself in the black orbs. Helplessly, he turned and saw his friends, looked down at them, and felt shame radiating from the straining erection in his pants.

"I see them," he whispered back. "I see women…I see power," he said, hoping against hope that he'd say whatever Angelus wanted to hear, or better yet, scared him into letting go. But he was horrified to look inside himself, to a dark place that he'd always hid from Buffy and Willow, that he didn't want Angelus to stop that seductive whispering.

"What else, _mo chroi_?" Angelus asked softly, moving closer to Xander, nearly touching him but not quite in that maddening way that made Xander want to moan in frustration and _touch_ that cold body that was making this static electricity inside of him jump to attention.

"I…I don't know," he confessed, unsure as to what Angelus was asking. Angelus pulled away from him slightly, and Xander tried to turn to see, but the vampire still wouldn't let him turn away from his friends.

_Smack!_

The sharp slap of Angelus' hand against Xander's ass was muffled by the music, and no one heard it but the two of them (and the vampires that Angelus had spread insidiously throughout the club). Xander jumped, a startled yelp escaping from his mouth, but still he could not turn.

"Are you questioning me?" Angelus purred in his ear. Deceptively casual, pleasant voice vibrating through Xander's being. Terrified, by the vampire and by his own bodily reactions to said leech, Xander shook his head frantically. His ass stung slightly from the hard smack.

"Good, _mo chroi_," Angelus said, apparently approving of Xander's obedience. And for once Xander couldn't think of a single snappy comment, some sarcastic quip that would make this a life-and-death situation that he was somehow sure that it wasn't. There was something in Angelus'…_presence_ that told him that Angelus was here for something specific. Something that wasn't involving bloodshed.

And Xander was terrified at the ease with which he'd accepted this behaviour about Angelus. It suggested an already-forged empathic link that he never, _ever_ wanted to admit to himself. Any connection between him and the mysteriously charismatic immortal should be squashed quickly.

"Would you like me to tell you what _I _see?" Angelus inquired innocently, still holding Xander close. Xander didn't even notice that the vampire's hold was extremely loose. It never occurred to Xander to try and break away.

"Yes," Xander found himself whispering quietly. And he brazenly turned to meet Angelus' eye. He had no idea where the courage to move had come from, but Xander had learnt early on in his life on the Hellmouth to trust his instincts…and for some insane reason, he _knew_ that Angelus' wasn't going to hurt him. Not tonight, at least.

Angelus' eyes widened fractionally at the brazen action of the boy in front of him. For a moment, he simply stared into the large, invitingly warm, chocolaty-brown eyes that peered searchingly into his yellow gaze. Angelus realised that he was in his vampiric facial mode, his true face, and he felt so comfortable around Xander in his true form that it scared him.

Angelus mentally shook himself, snapping out of his mental reverie. _He_ was in charge here, after all. He was here for a reason. He grinned benignly down at Xander, his fangs flashing, marvelling in the lack of fear of the mortal. He pulled Xander close to him, soothing his body's craving for his boy for the time being. If Xander noticed the large erection pressing into his back, he gave no sign.

_Just being around my boy arouses me!_ the demon thought triumphantly.

Xander was drawing on this newfound confidence with everything that he had. A large, hard bulge was pressed against his lower back, and he knew what it was, and he was afraid. But there was a small part of him, a dark part of his soul that he constantly tried to suppress that exulted in the power his body held over the powerful vampire.

"I see," Angelus murmured, leaning in even closer to Xander. To anyone who happened to spare them a passing glance, they probably looked like two lovers embracing in the darkness of the Bronze's balcony. "Humans," he finished quietly, his voice carefully neutral. This was the tricky phase. If he lost his Alexander now, he'd not get him back willingly. And that was the sweetest part f possessing someone – their willing participation. Spike had never acquired Angelus' love of the stalk.

"So why aren't you down there with them?" Angelus asked, as he gently rubbed himself against his boy's back. _So close…_

And that's such a _loaded_ question that Xander was rendered temporarily speechless. Not really given to such moments of introspection, is Xander Harris; but then, he'd never really been in a situation like this before.

"I don't know," Xander whispered, almost to himself. He looked lost, alone…so damn _vulnerable_ that the demon inside Angelus was roaring in such a fierce possessiveness that Angelus himself was temporarily stunned. He needed to Claim his boy soon, drink of his Cruor Aduro, or he'd drive himself mad.

_Which is why this requires so much finesse,_ he told himself sternly.

"Are you going to tell me?" Xander asked, still in that quiet, slightly confused voice. He turned to Angelus, looking into his eyes helplessly. Xander was lost in those infinite black orbs, feeling that _part_ of himself so close to the surface tonight that he might explode and…and…_what_? he wanted to scream. But he never really knew, did he?

"Yes," Angelus said simply. And Xander nodded. There was all that was left was to listen. He knew nothing else but the sound of Angelus' hypnotic voice. It was sultry, it was…_seductive_. Xander had always been straight; hell, he'd always been practically homophobic (it was hard _not_ to be with _his_ father). But there was that _place_ within his being that longed for this…and knew that it was right.

Right for whom?

Xander felt like he was going to explode his own brain – all of these thoughts kept chasing and chasing and all the time Angelus (_Angelus_! his mind screams) is just _looking_ at him and isn't it nice that Deadboy finally, _finally_ _notices_ him?

"Who are you, Xander?" Angelus asks presently, jerking Xander from his wildly wandering thoughts and forcing him back into the present. This, this question is real and all of its implications are things that Xander can hold on to in order to stabilize a shifting world.

"Me," Xander says simply. He knows that that's not the answer Angelus is looking for, but it's true enough. In that moment, Xander isn't anybody – not the Soldier, not the Hyena, not the Zeppo or the Slayer's friend or any of it. He's just…Xander. And Angelus nods approvingly.

"Good answer," the vampire says. Then he spanks Xander again, harder, on the other side of his ass, and Xander can't help but let out another surprised yelp. "But I'm not here for your smartass comments, boyo," Angelus continued calmly, as if he'd never 'punished' his boy.

"I'm here to tell you who you are."

Xander turned to him warily, eyeing him with a nervous apprehension and mounting anxiety that hadn't been there before. _Who I am?_ he wondered to himself in near-panic. The panic wasn't abated in the least bit when Angelus added, "I'm here to tell you _what_ you are."

Eight simple words, and Xander's world is paralysed and shattered like glass all at once. And the glass has jagged edges and it cuts deep into his skin. And as the blood sprays the walls of Xander's once-mind, it spells out one word, like a brand for the world to see.

_Angelus_.

A/N: I know, I know, I'm a horrible, dirty bastard who holds out on you and makes you suffer. But there is a good reason for this being such a cliff-hanger – the explanation is really long, and events spiral into chaos from there…seriously, it's like a friggin roller coaster ride in my head. So, _next_ chapter, it all (almost all) gets spelt out.

Until then, TTFN (as the First says to Buffy on Its way out in _Showtime_ – I'm such an evil bitch, aren't I?)

Oh, and by the way - Merry Christmas!


	5. IV The Balcony Scene, Part II

A/N: Okay, more details here. The fifth chapter of _Passion_ was taking so damn long, and I couldn't figure out why, until I looked back on the site and discovered that I effing _hated_ the original fourth chapter that I posted. The whole thing was this arduous angst-fest that nearly had me puking. No joke. That in mind, I rewrote the whole thing, and this is what I came up with.

I was moved from my great, lovely home and moved to shit-land, so my whole writing schedule is off. To make up for this, I wrote these great new prologues that explain lots and set up lots of other plot lines. I'm also currently working on Chapter V of this story, which will be posted soon.

Those of you who read my story The Gift, also on this site, only in the _Angel_ section: I will be removing that chapter until I'm done with this story, because I feel that that's a good story, and needs to be given the right amount of time to develop.

Disclaimer: As stated in previous chapters

Distribution: As stated in previous chapters

A/N 2: Okay, so, once again, I'm sorry. Now that you are up to speed, hasten to read and review all of my lovely new chapters, please. Without further ado, I give you an actually _good_ version of:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

Chapter IV

The Balcony Scene, Part II

There was a war being waged on the sweet chocolate battlefield of Xander's eyes. Angelus watched his boy, careful to not touch, trying to appear non-threatening. At this point, the boy's mind would be lashing out, searching for a bad guy to focus on, to fight. Angelus needed him to see the demon as a source of protection, or Xander would be lost to him.

His demon roared in furious rage at the very thought, and Angelus had to forcibly prevent himself from shuddering. The bloodlust from the intoxicating scent given off by his unwitting _Cruor Aduro_ was driving him mad; but there was a deeper possessiveness to the anger...well, he could sort out his strange feelings later. Right now, all of his considerable focus needed to be on Xander.

_MINE!_ his demon raged possessively.

Emotions rippled across Xander's face. _It could be so easy to break him_, Angelus thought. Those who wore their hearts and their emotions so expressively were usually easy to destroy - and he had a lot of practice. True masters of torture knew that physical pain could only get you so far before the natural defences of humankind made their nerves immune to the pain, building up their defiance and leaving them physically broken. Mental torture was needed to offset the physical, to break through their mind's defences and leaving them broken and shattered, with only a sick psychological need for their captors.

The vampiric slave trade had many such humans ready for the enterprising vampire or demon, and Angelus himself had contributed a tiresome slave or two to the cattle auctions.

Xander was one of those individuals who would show the intuitive captor his mental breaking points very easily, leaving him open for a world of pain. Soulboy had recognised this weakness and tried to protect him, but had been too caught up in trying to be "good enough" for the Slayer to respond to the obvious desire that had radiated from Xander's body.

Doubt, indecision, desire, shame from the latter, fear - Xander was obviously feeling a little volatile. It was time to start applying the persuasion.

"Nothing to say, sweeting?" Angelus asked, the endearment falling easily from his lips. He could see Xander instinctively responding to it, a part of him, however small, hungrily aching for affection. It made Angelus angry, that _his_ boy should feel like he had to _earn_ love.

But the flash of rage in Angelus' eyes was enough to break the half-hypnotic hold he'd gotten on Xander, and the boy began to back away quickly, his eyes flickering like a nervous animal to any possible avenues of escape. _Fuck_, Angelus cursed silently.

"I don't know what the _hell_ you're talking about, Deadboy!" Xander spat, trying desperately to get away from the predator who was slowly and steadily advancing on his frightened prey. Xander could feel the Darkness inside of himself like a physical thing, ready to explode...there were times when holding down that strange, primal force inside of his soul became difficult - like right then, for instance.

That..._otherness_, that primal roar of pure animal fury in the darkness of Xander's subconcious, _wanted_ Angelus. And, frightening as it was, so did a part of Xander himself.

"Don't you?" Angelus asked innocuously. That damn _smile_ was back, and Xander wanted to beat it off of the demon's smirking face. The yellow eyes and strange ridges and vicious fangs were strangely beautiful to Xander; always had been, really. It was just so..._natural_. And, that thought giving him a maxi-wiggins, as Buffy would put it, sent him backing away again, ready at any second to rush for his friends, to get _away._

"Can't you feel it now, inside of you, Xander?" Angelus breathed reverently. Xander froze, stunned. He was finding himself unable to move away, and he _didn't care_.

"_What?_ " Xander rasped. No one else knew...no one...

"The darkness...deep down inside..." Angelus breathed, moving even closer.

"How..." Xander trailed off. It was time to run. He coiled his muscles like a spring, ready to fire off at the slightest provocation. He was stopped by the cool and somehow soothing hand that ran slowly, comfortingly over his overheated face.

Angelus closed his eyes in rapture as he traced out every line of his lovely boy's face, that powerfully tempting blood pumping under his hand as large chocolate orbs stared up at him, frozen. Idly, a quote from _Steppenwolf_ came to mind - _In fear I hurried this way and that. I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other_...but Xander represented the perfect synthesis of the two, and Angelus somehow knew that if he kissed the boy, there would be no one else for him, ever.

The intensity of his feelings scared him somewhat, but there was a thrill to the danger of falling - it was a knife edge that both boy and vampire found themselves walking together, hand in hand.

"Hush, _mo chroi_," Angelus murmured, reverently stroking Xander's face. "I'm not going to hurt you."

This was stated as blunt fact, as if it were the law. And for some reason, Xander found himself believing that seductive voice without question.

Angelus fought down the urge to moan as Xander unconsciously leant forward into his soothing touch. Gods below, his boy was so fucking _hot!_ A brief image of Xander grinding himself wantonly against Angelus' prodigious erection prompted a sigh of pleasure as he imagined how fiery hot and tight his boy would be on the inside when he was sliding himself deep inside...

"No one ever knew," Xander muttered to himself, absently rubbing against Angelus' hand, mutely seeking comfort. Angelus couldn't help the approving and pleasured purr that rumbled up and out of his chest. Xander smiled hesitantly at the reassuring sound, and he allowed himself to be drawn back against Angelus' chest.

"Why didn't they know, Xander?" Angelus murmured in his ear, the purring a soothing _thrum_ against his back. The sound put him in mind of warmth, of home. He closed his eyes tightly at the thoughts.

"It scares me...sometimes..." Xander trailed off, his eyes opening again and fixing unseeingly on his friends. If he noticed Angelus' massive erection, he didn't say anything, or give any indication. Instead he just stared, glassy-eyed and slightly unaware, into a distance that only he could see. Talking about this was somehow comforting - knowing that someone else, _anyone_ else knew the secret made it easier to bear. He turned around with a slightly playful smile. "You always did put me in mind of a big cat, you know," he commented casually to the vampire.

"Aye?" Angelus asked with a very tiger-like grin. He rubbed himself meaningfully against Xander's front. "Well, you can feel free to pet me whenever you like," he whispered with a wicked little smile. Xander gave him an uncertain look in return, his eyes speaking volumes: _How could you ever want _me? Angelus once again found himself cursing his boy's uncertainty. He'd never get through to Xander if the boy didn't trust him completely. _Well_, Angelus thought, _I'll just have to _show_ him how much he is desired._

"I don't think you believe me, boyo," Angelus growled, his yellow demon's eyes glowing. Xander shrugged carelessly, turning to face the crowd again, unwilling to meet his face. He yelped in surprise and pan as Angelus casually slapped his ass again. Twin thick, cold, iron-hard bars that were Angelus' arms wrapped around his waist, crushing him against Angelus' strong, firmly muscled chest.

"Now, what can we do to correct that little...misunderstanding?" Angelus mused aloud, possessively clutching his boy to his chest.

Feeling the size of the mammoth erection pressing insistently into the small of his back apparently did the trick for most of Xander's brain, because his mind decided to shut down without even an _eep!_ of warning. Xander felt his face burning as he remembered private midnight fantasies where the only relief was a painfully fast bout of masturbation.

"Guh…" Xander said intelligently. Angelus chuckled behind him, a basso profundo sound that jolted through Xander's body like a living thing.

"Believe me now?" Angelus asked innocently. Xander turned to give him a half-hearted glare as he spotted his cat-ate-the-canary grin.

"A truth spell?" Buffy asked uncertainly. She sat back once Willow was done whispering in her ear, and she checked to see that no one was around their little table when she posed the question. The redhead's wide eyes also glanced around, but Buffy was relaxed; she was the Slayer, and her senses for vamps and other nasties were a bit more pronounced than Willow or Xander's.

"It could be the only thing, Buffy," Willow said after a moment. "I mean, you know how stubborn Xander can be when he's got his mind set on something. Right now he'd rather move to another town than tell us what's wrong, and if it's something big, then maybe we can find a way to head it off," Willow continued. Buffy had to see the logic in this.

"Well, I don't know, Wills…I mean, it still feels kind of…intrusive," Buffy said hesitantly.

"Oh, it _is_," Willow said earnestly. "It's barely even allowed with the whole Wiccan Rede thing. But I was talking about it to Miss Calendar, and she says—"

"Oh, and all of sudden we're supposed to trust everything she says?" Buffy snapped coldly. "Because the last time she held out on us, my boyfriend turned into the most evil creature of the night this side of Satan, and she turned out to be a Gypsy posing as a computer teacher."

Willow sighed internally. She'd been debating telling Buffy about this first before Giles, and she'd decided to run it by Buffy first. Willow was certain that this was the best way to get whatever was making Xander do the wacky out into the open, which would be better for everyone involved.

The main problem with her solution was the Miss Calendar angle. Willow wasn't anywhere near a strong enough witch to do a truth hypnosis yet, and she would never attempt to try it without her teacher in the magic arts. On the other hand, it was partly Miss Calendar's fault that Angel had reverted to Angelus – it had been her family that had first performed the Ensoulment Curse, and she had originally been sent to Sunnydale to ensure that he still suffered.

The problem with this being that she and Giles, Buffy's Watcher and the school librarian, had fallen love. She hadn't been able to tell him who she was because loyalty to the Gypsy family had been drilled into her head since she could crawl. It all would have gone well, until Angel had lost his soul, leading Buffy to have one of her prophetic Slayer visions of Jenny's involvement.

Since she'd exposed Jenny as a Gypsy, Giles and Jenny hadn't spoken, even though Willow and Buffy could both tell that they wanted to. Buffy was angry that Jenny didn't have nearly the skill or the proper supplies and rituals to curse Angelus with his soul again. Willow was still the only one of the Scooby Gang that spoke to Jenny (not that Xander had any problem with her, per se, he just had never been in position to know her enough to care), due to her continued education in witchcraft.

Ordinarily, when Buffy got a closed expression like the one she had on right now, Willow would drop the subject. But Xander and she had been friends since she was five-and-a-half years old; there was no way that if there was the slightest danger to him the she could prevent, she wouldn't try, no matter how she had to go about it.

"I'm serious, Buffy – this might be our only choice," Willow said angrily. Before Buffy could even open her mouth for a response, Willow knew that she had to play her trump: the Guilt Card. "And besides, you _know_ that Giles has been all bad and moody since they stopped talking," Willow said easily. Buffy stopped.

Willow knew that the break-up weighed heavily on Buffy's mind; her father had pulled a disappearing act after he'd returned Buffy to Sunnydale after her summer in LA, and Giles had been like a father and mentor to her ever since. Part of her blamed herself for anything that made Giles miserable, and she glared at Willow in irritation – she knew exactly what the redheaded witch was doing.

Willow smiled as she easily accepted the victory. "Alright, I'll tell Giles what we're going to do tomorrow, and then we can work on supplies and rituals."

"You've always known you were different from others, didn't you?" Angelus asked. Xander didn't have an answer ready, not one that he wanted to give, anyway. This whole conversation shouldn't even be happening! Here he was, getting revelations and come-ons from a vicious mass-murdering demon (who kept _spanking_ him!), and he wasn't even shaking.

"You've always had something inside that told you that you were better."

And Xander wanted to moan guiltily, from remembering the times when he'd almost wanted to _slap_ Buffy when she started being blonde – he shook himself firmly.

"I'm not better than anyone," Xander said angrily. "And I'm not different––"

"Liar," Angelus said coldly. "You are different because we both know it, as does every little demon who can't seem to keep from trying to get in your pants – ever wonder why that is, Xanny?" he asked mockingly. Xander _was_ shaking now, shaking and trying to get away from the insidiously sensuous voice that was saying everything and nothing that he wanted to hear.

"It's because they're females – and they're demons. They can smell what you are from a mile away, and the mating would provide power, a thing highly coveted in the demon world," Angelus went on, sounding like the literal version of the teacher from Hell.

"And what, you think that you can get power from me?" Xander demanded, trying to sound brave but aware of the slight squeak in his voice.

"I don't want your power," Angelus said bluntly. "I want _you_."

Xander couldn't even hear the sound system anymore. There was the loudest silence he'd ever heard ringing in his ears, but somehow every word Angelus was saying was breaking through into his mind, whispering words that he wanted to bat away and also gather to his chest at the same time.

"But you still have no idea what I'm talking about when I say your power, do you, boy o' mine?" he asked, the Irish brogue rolling sibilantly (sexily, as Xander would _not_ let himself think) off of the demon's tongue and between his fangs.

Xander shook his head mutely, jerkily – a visible denial of the truth of Angelus' words, but his actions belied the affected air of casual disbelief, the demon was pleased to see. This was proving to be easier than Angelus had originally planned for – there was a unique rapport forming in his mind between him and his boy, and he was finding Xander's actions strangely anticipated. Was this normal for a vampire to feel for a Cruor Aduro?

"I'm talking about your father," Angelus said simply. He expected shock, or maybe denial. What he got was…

Laughter. All Xander could do was giggle stupidly. "My father? What, my special power is supposed to be getting drunk?" he asked glibly. "My father is one of the biggest wastes of space on this planet – if this is the best you can come up with, you can go burn in–"

"I'm talking about your _real_ father," Angelus said bluntly. Xander froze.

"Wh-wha…what do you mean?" Xander asked, sounding small and frightened. Angelus smirked.

"I mean, the man who fucked your mother and produced _you_, your father, your parent…must I go on?" he asked innocently, purposefully misunderstanding the question.

"I don't know where the fuck you're coming up with this, but there's a certified fucking document that says Tony Harris is my dad," Xander said angrily. "I don't have to stay up here and play around with your pathetic little mind-fucks anymore! If this is the best you can do, you might as well try your luck with Buffy hand-to-hand for once, and I'll fucking _laugh_ when she kicks your ass!" he finished, yelling and not caring about who heard him.

"Careful, boy," Angelus hissed. But Xander was way beyond anger at this point, too enraged to care much about the consequences. He'd dance in the fire and laugh, and he' d rather die than show how much the vampire's words were rattling him.

"Or you'll what?" Xander sneered derisively. "Suck me dry? Rip my head off and use it as a soccer ball? Torture me for hours? All you are is talk – you haven't done anything since Buffy took the Judge out but talk and send pathetic little love letters–"

It was what a vampire would normally refer to as a 'love tap;' Spike or Dru would have laughed and gone for the throat if anyone had hit them that hard. As it was, Xander got thrown to the floor, his head spinning, and a lurid red mark already forming across his cheek. No stranger to punishment he, Xander leapt back to his feet with a grace that he hadn't known he possessed and smashed his fist full-force into Angelus' face.

The vampire jerked back with a snarl, and Xander turned to head back down the stairs as fast as his unsteady feet could carry him. He got about three steps before Angelus caught up with him and lifted him straight off of the floor by the scruff of his neck, like a kitten who'd done something to piss off Mommy.

"There are obviously a few things I need to remind you of, boyo," Angelus snarled, his enraged demonic visage mere inches from Xander's own. "Firstly, that I've got just about everyone in the Bronze primed for a mass slaughter – which would be your fault. Secondly, I've got both o'your friends directly primed to die tonight – which would be _your_ fault. Thirdly, you know what I'm telling you is true, else you wouldn't of stayed up here as long as you have."

"And fourth: if you ever hit me again, I'll teach you what pain is," he said, his voice deathly quiet. Xander nodded frantically, feeling a strange urge to just submit. He decided to trust his instincts, and was the first to drop the staring contest that he'd found himself in. Angelus nodded his approval and let Xander go.

Xander dropped nearly a foot to the floor, and stood rubbing the back of his neck while he carefully didn't look in Angelus' direction. The demon snorted and moved to stand in Xander's line of sight. "Do you want to hear this or not?" he asked, irritated.

Xander had about a minute to consider.

His world was shattering into pieces; everything that he'd taken for granted was sizzling into nothing. There was a roaring in his head, like a song that was waiting for the opening notes, and he had a strange flash of memory, of himself moving through the world in a dream, in a trance. Memories that had stayed locked safely away for a long time were open for viewing, and he stared up at the impassive face of the vampire before him.

In the end, there was only one thing he could say, to him, to Angelus. Xander felt owned, as if Angelus had already marked the place in his heart that Angel had wormed into without Xander's wish. He threw himself up to the fire, to the strange song in his heart, and said the only thing he could say.

"Yes."

A/N: Okay, there's only going to be one more balcony scene, which will be the next chapter, in which Jessica Harris' story gets unveiled. After which, the whole thing explodes and spirals far away from canonical _Buffy_. One thing that I'm going to unveil right now – _Passion_, the episode that this part of the story is taking place in, is NOT the episode where Jenny uncovers the secret to re-cursing Angelus.

Don't be looking for Jenny to be dead. I like her; she'll be around for a while.

And again, thanks to all of my reviewers – without you, I might have lost heart and just given up when my life got all screwed up…_again_.

Until the next update (which should be by the end of this week)

Blessed be,

PyroPadawan.


	6. V The Balcony Scene, Part III

A/N: Okay, like I promised, here is the next update. This will be the very last of the Balcony Scenes. I don't care how long it is, but here is where you learn about Angelus' findings and here is where the Balcony Scenes end. After this, the updates will go back to being random – sometimes I'll post like three a week, and sometimes one a week, but always I'll update regularly, until this story is finished.

(Special A/N: As a reviewer pointed out to me, I got Oz's name wrong in the first edition of chapter four, before I rewrote it. Since I rewrote it, Oz wasn't actually in it, but, for future reference, Oz's actual full name is Daniel Ozbourne. Thanks for the check-up, RuneWitchSakura. Oh, and other people – you catch a mistake, feel free to drop me a line and I'll address the issue – help is much appreciated, along with reviews.)

SPECIAL NOTE: This is in response to a semi-flame I received, so I'm only gonna say this the once. First, this is a _fanfiction_; aside from the basic plot, all of the central characters/locales/previous plot points/etc., etc., is someone else's material, so back off. Secondly, this is a fanfiction that came with warnings that there were going to be major materials taken from certain scenes from the X-Men fandom (specifically, the Phoenix/Dark Phoenix Saga), Atlantis, and maybe some stuff from various Avalon stories – a lot of that is my own stuff. If you can't take certain dialogue from movies appearing in this, though changed for my own diabolical reasons, _don't_ waste both my time and yours writing a review that nobody is going to care about. By taking up bandwidth, you are also annoying countless others. Thank you.

A Disclaimer In Regards to the Above: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ came from the fantasmically creative mind of Joss Whedon, with his team of marvellously talented writers (such as David Greenwalt and Marti Noxon, among others) – here's for hoping that an eighth season makes it to TV (I can dream, can't I?)!

Disclaimer Part II: _X-Men_ – the comics – came from the ridiculously creative Stan Lee, and his team of writers. The Phoenix/Dark Phoenix storyline came from the wondrous mind of Chris Claremont, and the X-Men movies came from the minds of Stu Ravener and other really good authors. Certain parts of these will be borrowed and changed to fit my story. No copyright infringement is intended, blah, blah, blah. Don't sue me.

Distribution: As said before, if you would like my story for your archive or whatever, just email me (the author page has the address) and tell me where my baby is going.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_chapter V_

The Balcony Scene, Part III

Angelus was fighting the urge to crow in triumph. Xander's innocent gesture of submission to his will was inflaming him, urging him to mate and Claim, to drink – he forcibly reigned in his desires, mastering them with the skill of long practice.

Any Master vampire worthy of the title concealed his emotions from everyone, lest he inadvertently revealed his weaknesses to his enemies. No minions would respect the rule of a Master if the Master showed any sign of weakness. Angelus had no doubt that had the Master, that mouldy old bat of a vampire, had ascended, he'd still be in control of most of the vampire covens in America.

Xander was patiently staring at him, waiting. Angelus thought how best to carefully state the truth to Xander. No matter how docile the boy looked now, it was a volatile state of mind that Angelus had reduced him to. The bruise forming on the side of Xander's face was a testament to that.

"I'm assuming that the Watcher told you about the Old Ones?" Angelus asked finally. He'd taught Drusilla and Spike to be two of the most vicious vampires alive (or not); he knew how to lead someone along to have them form their conclusions – it would be better for his boy's ego, if nothing else.

Xander nodded slowly. He remembered that day vividly – the night before, he, Willow, and Jesse had been attacked by monsters and saved by Buffy, the new girl, who, despite her tiny frame, had kicked monster ass and saved their lives.

The next day, Mr. Giles, the new librarian, explained what demons were, what vampires were, and who Buffy was. The Old Ones were the pure demons who had ruled the Earth back in the dark times, before the people had arrived and the First Slayer had driven most of the demons into other dimensions.

"Well, what he doesn't know – what most Watchers don't know, is how much of a foothold those demons have here in this world," Angelus continued. He was going purposefully slow – he wanted Xander to understand everything that he said. "Some of the older, more powerful demons are able to break through, to make contact in this reality, with varying results."

"What does this have to do with me?" Xander asked hesitantly.

"If you'll let me finish, I'll get to that," Angelus snapped with a sigh of exasperation. Xander subsided without protest, but he wasn't quick enough to stop the flash of hurt in his eyes at Angelus' words. With a pang, he quickly remembered the obvious fact that Xander hailed from an abusive home – the out-of-hand dismissal from his lips had obviously hurt the boy. Apologetically, he drew the boy back against his chest, letting a gentle sort of growl emanate from his chest.

Xander was still for a moment, but he relaxed against the firm chest that was holding him captive. This strange…affinity that he was feeling for the demon was getting stronger by the moment. He'd felt a hurt that was stronger than he could really understand when Angelus had snapped at him (so like his father) – but the vampire had surprised him by being instantly apologetic, taking him into something that Xander could pretend was a hug.

"Now," Angelus continued, as if there hadn't been an interruption. "Of all of the Old Ones, the most powerful were called Elementals. These were the demon masters with power over the elements – earth, air, fire and water. Magic, mental powers, whatever you want to call it, they had it. And after they were exiled, they could still use it."

"Because the Slayer couldn't kill them. She was powerful, but one girl wouldn't have been nearly enough to exile the Old Ones from this plane. She had help, from the one group of human magic users strong enough to overthrow the Elementals."

"But I thought that the humans weren't really around much before the Slayer kicked the demons out," Xander said, confused.

"Oh, there were humans that weren't in Africa, the so-called Cradle of Life. They were all killed after the Exile," Angelus explained patiently. "But if you'd let me finish, boy, I'd explain." Angelus made sure to gentle his tone this time, and he felt Xander relax against him once more.

"There's an old human myth about an island of people that were far too advanced for their time, that was sank to the bottom of the sea thousands of years ago–"

"Okay, wait a minute," Xander interrupted, turning around and regarding Angelus with near-amused exasperation in his eyes. "This whole thing is nuts, anyway, and I don't know _why_ I'm listening to you, but you can't _really_ expect me to believe that Atlantis actually existed! I mean, come _on_! Atlantis?" he said incredulously.

Angelus regarded him with amused eyes. "Boy, you've spent the last year-and-a-half bein' best friends with a vampire Slayer, a witch, and a werewolf, and you have trouble believin' in Atlantis?"

"Oh," Xander said. He wondered if he sounded as small and stupid as he felt at that moment. Judging from the rich, hearty chuckle coming from the demon in front of him, he did. "So, Atlantis, huh?" he asked, a little too cheerfully, as if to make up for his apparent lapse of brains earlier.

"Yes, mine own, Atlantis," Angelus said, the endearment coming easily to his lips. Xander didn't seem to mind, though; indeed, he drew closer, and Angelus fought down a smirk of victory. "There was a great power in Atlantis that the humans found, no one knows what it was or where it came from. But they grew to be a very advanced branch of your insipid breed–" Xander turned here and glared at him; Angelus gave him a smirk in return.

"They read and wrote, they learned and they prospered. And they grew very powerful in their magicks. The Emperor of Atlantis sought more power for himself. He negotiated a marriage, his daughter to one of the demon overlords who ruled the Earth."

"He just bartered away his daughter's _life_ to a demon to get himself bigger?" Xander asked incredulously.

"Of course," Angelus said easily. Xander stared at him, and Angelus fought the urge to curse – _he_ saw nothing wrong with what the king had done; but Xander had been raised with a different code of ethics. "Er…well, anyway, the emperor had his daughter marry one of the overlords, no one that I talked to knows which," Angelus fumbled on. He was irritated with himself at being embarrassed by his boy's censuring stare; his demon was practically howling with laughter.

"For a time, things went okay. But then the girl got herself knocked up," Angelus said bluntly. He was pleased to see that Xander was once again hanging on to his every word. "Her father was very afraid, because the power that the Atlanteans had discovered was more prominent in women at the time. Cross that with the demon's power, and the child would have more power than what she knew to do with.

"So, the emperor ordered his daughter killed, and said the marriage was void."

"And, let me guess: that didn't go down too well with the demon dude, did it?" Xander asked.

"You have to understand, boyo, when a demon mates, he mates for life. It's an old ritual of magic that no one even knows where it came from. It binds a demon to its chosen mate for the rest of their existence. When the emperor ordered her killed…" Angelus trailed off meaningfully.

"Hubby went ballistic," Xander finished simply.

"Exactly. He mustered a force and attacked Atlantis. The emperor used the power to fight them off, but while he did so, his daughter gave birth. The baby was spirited away by one of the demon's servants that had managed to hide from the slaughter at the palace, and was taken to her father."

"So, then the war was over?" Xander asked, confused.

"Not quite yet," Angelus answered. "You see, the power that the emperor had unleashed was far too much for the world to handle. Some old man, who had been warned by his deity about it and that it would happen because the world was wicked, kept a handful of people on that side of the world alive with a big boat."

"_Noah's ARK_?!" Xander ejaculated forcefully. He stared at Angelus with pure disbelief, and the demon chuckled.

"That's the story. And that's how about half the world got wiped out by a big flood – because of Atlantis."

"So, what happened to the baby?" Xander asked, after he'd calmed down a bit.

"Well, her father had been injured in the flood, and he wasn't yet able to take care of her. So he took her to a group of humans that were descended from Atlantis, but had escaped their greed and lust for power. They had started an Old Religion Coven that worshipped the Goddess and the God, and they called their island Avalon."

"Avalon? This is all unbelievable," Xander snapped.

"You don't believe me, sweet?" Angelus asked sweetly. Xander shook his head mutinously. Angelus chuckled at the overt display of disobedience. Training his sweet boy was going to prove to be a challenge and a pleasure, he saw. "Then feel free to ask your Watcher, Giles. He'll tell you all about the Moon Coven on Avalon."

Xander stopped at that, and Angelus knew that he had him. "They exist, and they're very powerful today. But that's beside the point. What is the point is that the last remaining child of Atlantis, the demon's baby, became the first ever Lady of the Lake, Tíanna. She had a child, and her child had a child, and the demon's blood, mixed with the most ancient of magical heritages, passed down through the ages to the one sister of three, back in the 1400's, that didn't want to stay on Avalon.

"She left the isle, and she took her husband's last name, passing it on to her family, through which the ancient blood is now the only residing place. The family's name was Bënnu."

Xander was standing stock still, the blood rushing out of his face. "That's my mother's maiden name," he said slowly, enunciating each word.

"Yes," Angelus said simply. Here was the tricky phase. Xander would be facilitating between what to believe, and Angelus had to make sure that he was the only one that Xander believed.

Buffy glanced around. "Where _is_ Xander, anyway?" she asked, turning in her seat to look around the club. She scanned the crowd, her anxiety growing as with each new face that she saw, she didn't see Xander. She quickly stood up, looking through the dance floor, hoping to see her friend murdering the term 'dancing' in the centre of the club, but no such luck. Even the shadowy corners of the Bronze were empty.

"I haven't seen him since he said he was going to get –" Willow stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she realised the implications of her words. This was Sunnydale, directly above the Hellmouth; more teenagers had died on the doorsteps of the Bronze than anywhere else in this accursed town.

"Some air," Buffy finished. She snatched her purse and drew out a wickedly sharp stake, disappearing into the crowd before Willow could say a word. The redhead sat back, breathing heavily. She knew that she wasn't the best ally to help Buffy at this junction, but anxiety over her friend drove her to stand and head after the Slayer.

She wouldn't lose Xander to the Hellmouth – not like Jesse.

Xander didn't know what to think. On the one hand, everything that Angelus had said sounded completely mental. Not to mention, _Angelus_! He was standing here with the demon that had gone on a murderous rampage after attacking him and his friends numerous times – hell, the demon was practically _sniffing_ him and humping his leg and he wasn't doing a thing to stop it!

Firmly blocking _that_ thought out of his head, he turned his attention to the other matter. The matter of the demon's story. Xander knew that he should be dismissing the whole thing out of hand. Angelus was pure evil; he took more pleasure in death and destruction than a kid with a new toy fire truck. Xander had read some of the journals that Giles had forbidden them to read after Angel had gone psycho, and he knew what the demon was capable of.

On the other hand, he already trusted Angelus on a deeper, more profound level of his subconscious than he was ready to admit. The demon had done nothing to hurt him personally, and aside from threatening Willow and stomping Buffy's heart to the ground, he hadn't done a thing to personally injure any of the Scooby Gang. Hell, he hadn't even come after Giles.

Then there were the little things in his life that just…_clicked_ with what Angelus said. The demon had given his mom's maiden name a weird pronunciation, sure, but how the hell had he known what her name was? Jessica Bennu had moved to Sunnydale _after_ she'd become Jessica Harris; her maiden name wasn't even registered in any of the files that the city council had on the census of Sunnydale (Xander knew this because Willow had accidentally hacked on to the Sunnydale City Records on her computer).

There would have been no way for the demon _to_ have known. Then, there was the crazed inclination that he had that he was _safe_ (?!) in Angelus' presence. That somehow, he, Xander Harris, had a free pass. He remembered the totally psyched out look on the vampire's face when he'd tasted his blood, and the way that the demon had possessively held him when they'd first begun this little soul-searching conversation.

Xander didn't even want to think about the spanking, or how hard he'd gotten when the vampire had actually _purred_ for him.

Xander hadn't even realised that that was an actual vampiric trait till tonight. Not to mention the weird little gifts that he'd been getting for the last month. And his mom had mentioned that it looked like an animal had pissed on the side of the house, marking its territory, almost…

"Say I believe you," Xander said slowly, trying desperately to sort out the maze of thoughts in his head. He turned to meet the gaze of the vampire. Angelus was in full game face, and Xander was grateful – he didn't think that he'd be able to think if that angel's face graced the demon's magnificent body once more. "What does this have to do with _me_?"

"Because, sweet, the demons have a way to enter this world, specifically with witch blood. If they have a way to enter, they use it to gain a foothold, or to put something there." Angelus didn't elaborate, because he wasn't sure how Xander would handle finding out that his father was a demon. All he needed to know right now was what Angelus had already told him.

"So...what does it have to do with _you_?"

The demon's yellow gaze locked on to his with an intensity that stilled Xander down to his soul. "Because you're mine," Angelus said bluntly. Xander froze as the demon's cool, smooth, beautifully shaped hand slowly ran down his face, stopping to rub over the vein in his throat with even gestures. Xander's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and he was harder than he'd ever been in his life.

Senses he didn't even know that he had were awakening to the demon's touch, and, following pure instinct, Xander bowed his head submissively, baring his neck to his demon's touch. Angelus leant in, soft, inhumanly cool lips that hid jagged fangs brushing the flesh of Xander's neck…

"I think that I'll have to have something to say about that," a cold voice echoed over the balcony. Xander's self slammed back into his conscious mind, and he leapt nearly a foot away from Angelus, his eyes slamming to lock onto the deceptively slight figure that was cloaked in shadow.

Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, stood still, her face frozen in rage, her grip tightening slowly on the stake.

_Fuck!_ Angelus roared inside his mind. Xander had been so close to submitting entirely to him, to let him mark him, claim him, and then this bitch had to come up and interfere. Driven by pure rage, his allowed Angel's face to slip back over his features, knowing how much that it would hurt her.

"Ah, Buff, how are ya?" he asked casually, slipping an arm around Xander's taught, tense shoulders. "Me and Xan were just having us a little chat. Mind if you stop by later?"

"Oh my god, Xander!" came a shrill voice from the other side of the balcony. _Double fuck!_ Angelus thought irritably. Willow was standing, frozen in terror, directly by his planned escape route. Xander looked desperate to go to his friends, to seek security in familiar things. Angelus didn't stop the growl of possessive rage that rumbled up from his chest. The boy was his. _HIS._ And he'd be damned if that meek little redheaded bitch took him from him.

"Ah, Willow. Come to join the party, have you?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice steady and even. They had to think that he wasn't planning anything with the both of them there, so that he could put his plan in motion.

"Let him go!" Willow cried angrily.

"It's okay, Wills," Xander said softly. He wasn't trying to struggle out of Angelus' grasp, the vampire was pleased to see.

"Xander, move!" Buffy snapped, moving closer.

"Don't you take another step, bitch," Angelus snarled, pulling Xander in close to himself. The boy relaxed in his grip, hanging like a limpet, drained. Angelus slipped his other hand encouragingly around the boy's waist, and Xander drew a little closer to his chest.

"Xander–" Willow began, stepping forward. A hand suddenly slammed forward onto her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks and pulling her back.

"I wouldn't do that, luv," an English accent drawled casually. Willow froze in her tracks as Angelus' secret weapon stepped out from the shadows. Buffy gasped as Spike, fully healed with his Sire's blood, pushed Willow away from Xander slightly. "The great pouf's got his mind set on the boy staying with him, and he's a little bitchy when he doesn't get what he wants," the blonde vampire said with a quirky grin.

"The stars whisper such magnificent things about daddy's dark little bird," Drusilla whispered from Buffy's left. "Such dark, deadly secrets…" she trailed off, grabbing her head and twirling in a circle like an insane top. Buffy jerked in surprise, faltering, as five other vampires stepped out of the shadows.

Xander tensed, struggling, in Angelus' arms. Here, though, was Angelus' test for his boy. "Trust me," he whispered in Xander's ear. The vampires advanced menacingly on the boy's friends, and Xander watched in horror as Spike and Dru held on to Willow with a loving gaze tossed his way. And, abruptly, Angelus' words penetrated his mind.

He threw his will to the wind and bowed his head in submission.

Angelus purred lowly from behind him, licking a long, decadently wicked trail up Xander's neck, making the boy shiver in desire. "Stop," the master vampire said coldly. Buffy froze as Willow was shoved abruptly into her gasp. The vampires drew around their master, protecting him from the Slayer's stake as she stumbled.

"Well, not that this hasn't been a lovely time to reminisce, Buff, but I think that me and my boy'll be leaving now," Angelus said with a maniacal chuckle. Xander had time to throw Buffy a slightly panicked look, but from what even he couldn't tell, before he was flying from the open window of the club, clutched in Angelus' arms like a kitten in the arms of his mother.

When they landed, Angelus unexpectedly released him. Xander stood warily, eyeing the pack of bloodsuckers around him as they bowed their head submissively to Angelus. Spike sidled up beside Angelus, with Drusilla next to him. Xander felt himself tremble under the eyes of three old, powerful demons, as they sized him up like a piece of meat.

Then, abruptly, an old memory awakened within him. Like a note of a song, a faint sound that he knew he'd heard in full somewhere in his memory, giving him strength. And he knew without doubt that he was angry. He could use this anger, and it would give him strength. An old quote from some president's wife came to mind:

"_No one can ever make you feel inferior without your consent."_

He'd given no one his consent. He straightened his shoulders and met Angelus in the eye, completely ignoring everyone else. Spike's eyes widened at the audacity of the boy's actions, and Drusilla stepped forward, running a hand through Xander's hair. He leant into the touch, his eyes daring Angelus to say anything.

The dark master of the Aurelius Coven growled loudly at Drusilla, and she was wise enough to let Spike lead her off. Angelus turned to leave, and Xander stood still, waiting. Spike was giving him a curious look, until Xander met his gaze head on. Visibly disturbed by something in the boy's gaze, Spike dropped his stare and hurried up to his Sire.

"Comin', boy o' mine?" Angelus asked, his Irish brogue thickened slightly as he offered his hand to Xander. Xander heard a struggle by the door, and he turned to see through a window that Buffy and Willow were struggling through the press to get out, to save him.

_Save me from what? Myself?_ he wondered in a bitter sort of irony, before he took hold of the vampire's hand.

By the time the Slayer slammed out into the street, Angelus was gone, and Xander with him.

A/N: Alright, I finally finished the Balcony set! I've also finished the plotline, and I wanted to let everyone know that the plot is going to get a little convoluted by the time its done, so pay attention! I've almost topped thirty reviews on this story, which is huge for me, so I'm really hoping that I'll make it to fifty by the time I'm done. To all of my reviewers, I'm so sorry that you've all waited so long for me to update, but the fact that this story has been hit more than 2000 times, and is on six C2 communities, is what keeps me going. Cheers, and until next time (with lots of Xangelusy goodness),

PyroPadawan.


	7. VI Arrivals and Departures

SPECIAL A/N: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST! Okay, as many of you know, in my chapters, time and characters jump around. In the _Microsoft Word_ edition of these chapters that I have saved on my computer, these "time-slips" are demarcated with three stars (the asterisk function when SHIFT + 8 are pressed). However, on the site, these do not show up. Therefore, on certain balcony scenes, where Xander and Angelus are talking, then Buffy and Willow's conversation randomly shows up – these are happening simultaneously at different parts of the Bronze. I'm sorry the stars don't show up on the site.

ANOTHER SPECIAL A/N: I was watching the news when the shootings at VT became a news story. I think I speak for all of the community when I give my deepest sorrow and regret to those poor people and their families who now have to live without their children.

A/N: Spring Break is here!! Laughs all around, and, as I live on top of a mountain, lots and lots and _lots_ of free time on my hands. Thus, I shall be writing at least this chapter, if not the next one over the course of this week. I'm alone in my house with _Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Radio Sunnydale_ playing in my stereo (which is actually a good writing mix – I just want the UK edition to get here, cause I ordered it, and it's supposed to be better), and churning out the chapters. To all of my reviewers: thank you so much for maintaining your reviews, and please, if it isn't too much trouble, review this and chapter six; it means a lot to writers on this site if the reviews metre has high numbers.

Disclaimer: As posted before.

Distribution: Take what you want, just inform me (my e-mail is on the author's page) where my brainchild is going.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_chapter VI_

Arrivals and Departures

"SHIT!" Buffy roared, her foot lashing out and putting a near foot-deep dent into the nearest dumpster. Willow sank down to her knees. She was still too stunned to cry, but she could feel them coming soon enough. Buffy turned and sighed as she surveyed her friend. Willow's face was stark-white and she was rocking back and forth in shock.

"He took Xander," Willow moaned. "He took Xander."

"I know, Willow," Buffy said quietly. She reached out and hauled Willow forcibly to her feet. "But come on – we've gotta find Giles; he'll know what to do." She was thinking on her feet, jumping to any logical conclusions that she possibly could. In this situation, however, she had no idea that Giles would know what to do. In this situation, all Buffy wanted to do was go home to her mother.

Xander was her rock. Willow was her best friend, her loyal confidante, but Xander had been there from the very first day of her new life in Sunnydale, standing by her side and battling against the Hellmouth's forces. Hell, he'd _brought her back to life_ for no reason other than that he was her friend and he believed in her. He had waltzed straight into a two hundred year old vampire's home and demanded that he helped Xander find her—but Buffy stopped there in her thoughts. Thinking of Angel would just hurt her, and then make her think about Angelus, and make her cry about the mess that they were in.

Well, she was the Slayer, and she didn't have the luxury of indulging in that desire right now. What she did have the option for was taking this case to her Watcher and seeing if he could do anything about it. "Come on, Wills. It's Giles; he'll figure something out."

She refused to think of the absolutely dead look on Willow's pale, heart-shaped face that left her wondering if the red-haired witch even heard her at all.

Xander walked on his own. Occasionally he could feel eyes on him, but he wasn't concerned enough with who was staring at him to see if it was Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, or one of the nameless fledges. Angelus hadn't spoken a word since they had begun their trek to the hideout – Xander wondered if they were still holed up in the piece-of-shit abandoned factory that Spike had resided in, or if the more tasteful Angelus had found them new digs.

Xander still couldn't bring himself to think of Angelus as Angel. He knew, instinctively, that they were the same people; Angel was like Angelus' alternate personality, with the exception that they both knew everything that the other had done while in different positions, whereas a normal case of schizophrenia left the dominant personality with no memory of what the usurper had done.

Thinking in analytical terms about mental illness was keeping him from dwelling too deeply on what he'd heard tonight…or about his friends. _God, Willow_, he thought mournfully. His best friend would never be able to understand why he had chosen to go with Angelus…and them's the breaks. Willow had _known_ that Xander had gone willingly with the demon; Xander had seen it in her eyes.

He set his gaze to the stars, thinking on happier, more oblivious times when he and Willow had sat outside and caught constellations. _Virgo, Orion, Sagittarius, Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Scorpio, the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, the North Star…_

Angelus would have given half of a King's Ransom to be able to read what his boy was thinking of now.It was taking all of his hard-earned self-control and stoicism in order to not go back and ask. Even now he could feel Spike's eyes on his back, so he relented from the urge to turn around. Showing weakness to the enterprising Spike would only endanger him, and through him, possibly Xander. Not for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of healing Spike. His Childe had grown to be wily and independent beyond Angelus' darkest dreams when he had turned him at Drusilla's behest.

Thinking of Drusilla…He turned around to cast a hard glance at his mad Childe. She had been even crazier than usual, lately, muttering under her breath about birds rising and death flying like fire across the sky. It seemed to worsen every time that she was anywhere near Xander – that or near the both of them, when she was whispering about pain and blood and love in the air like poisonous butterflies. Sometimes he wanted to ask her if she was subject to migraines.

He turned back, sweeping his eyes to make sure that no one had followed them, though he was sure that no one had. He led his strange procession toward Harrington Street, heading towards the warehouse district near Sunnydale's docks…the "bad part of town." He was quite pleased with how Xander followed wherever he led. He continued on, lost in his introspective thoughts, unaware of Spike's eyes on the back of his head.

Spike didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he wanted to think that it was a cold day in Hell before he ever trusted his Sire again. On the other, Angelus had been almost freakishly like the old days, when they had been a big, putting-the-'fun'-in-dysfunctional family. He had even given up his blood to heal Spike's wounds, giving Spike a second chance to battle the Slayer. Despite Spike's fury over Angelus' flaunting of his relationship with Dru, he couldn't really think of himself as anything but a hypocrite when he was sharing his Sire's bed as well.

And then there was the matter of this boy…

"Giles!"

A frantic scream broke through the Watcher's reverie. He jerked out of his chair, the small shot of scotch he'd allowed himself with his evening tea flying out of his hand, splattering the ancient text in front of him. "Damn," he muttered as he tossed a napkin on the book, running toward the door. He recognised the sound of his Slayer in a panic, and he ran as fast as he could, lest he miss a chance to rescue Buffy from some great danger.

And, with Angelus on the loose, his poor Slayer was in more danger than ever.

He threw the door open to see Buffy and Willow standing, out of breath, on his front porch. It was more Willow's appearance than Buffy's that caused Giles to grab the both of them and haul them forcibly into his apartment with a strength that Buffy hadn't known that he possessed. Willow followed along like a limpet, pale despite the swiftness with which she'd been borne to the Watcher's house, her eyes wide and vacant. Giles waved his hand in front of her eyes, but she didn't so much as flinch.

"Buffy, what happened?" he asked with a calmness that he didn't feel.

"He took Xander," Buffy whispered flatly. By the shocked, stunned look to her face, Giles didn't have to ask _who_. What he did have to ask, however, was why.

"What happened?" he demanded, crossing to the phone on the wall. Buffy started to pace as she gathered her head together enough to tell him what happened. He held up a finger to her right as she opened her mouth, and he dialled a number that he hadn't used in nearly a month.

"Hello?" the familiar voice answered over the phone. Giles kept his face a careful blank as he responded.

"We need you here, if you're available."

Silence reigned on the other end of the line, and Giles wondered whether or not she was going to just hang up on him. Buffy was glaring at him, but it was a half-hearted glare that Giles knew she didn't really mean. She knew full well who Giles had just called…but she also knew that they would need her help if they wanted to rescue Xander. And that was something that Buffy refused to believe was something that they couldn't do.

"Of course, Rupert. It's an emergency?" Jenny Calendar asked briskly, over the sounds of putting her coat on.

They reached the factory sooner than Angelus had expected, but he had been figuring on having to drag Xander along. The conversation that he'd had with the boy had gone on better than he had ever anticipated. Xander had kept pace with the vampire pack as their master led them back to their accepted residence, never once voicing complaint. Angelus had felt Spike's eyes on his back as he purposefully led them at a pace faster than most humans would have been able to keep up with easily.

But then, Xander wasn't exactly like most people, was he?

He turned to survey the group, his eyes lingering on Xander. The boy was carefully avoiding his eyes at this point, his face flushed, though not with exertion. Angelus knew that the pain of leaving his friends behind was bad for his boy, and that irritated him. He wanted Xander to follow him without thinking about that Slayer bitch and his little witch friend. He crushed that thought. Xander's loyalty was what had made him more than imminently desirable to Angelus.

And for some reason, that was what he wanted. Not devotion, not mastery over the boy. He wanted what Angel had had – the boy's caring. He wanted to look across the room and catch the boy staring at him with masked love in his eyes, he wanted Xander to be as loyal to him as he was to his other friends. He wanted Xander to love him.

"You," he snapped suddenly, breaking the silence by addressing two minions who had been edging a little _too_ close to Xander for the boy's protection. The two minions instantly cowered backward, looking like they were ready to drop to their knees and kowtow shamelessly to spare themselves. _As well they should_, he thought disdainfully. Throughout his life as a vampire, Angelus had made himself notorious for being possessive; the last vampire that had crossed him had tried to injure one of his precious Childers, and Angelus hadn't let him die until he'd tortured him for two weeks.

He relented, though, in light of the fact that at this point, he didn't have near as many minions as he would have liked. That had always been Spike's problem; he didn't see the value in near-useless foot soldiers. Angelus did. Elevating a mere minion to House status in vampiric society gave it more social status, as well as protection, which would ensure absolute loyalty. Not to mention that if any vampire ever had aspirations of becoming more than just a run-of-the-mill idiot whose only thoughts was blood and destruction, they quickly allied themselves with strong master vampires.

Now that the Slayer had done away with the Master, that mouldy old fool, Angelus had no doubts in his mind that he was the strongest of them all. Many would claim that Dracula was stronger (him or Kakistos), but Angelus discounted this. Dracula was a poufy idiot whose only real thoughts ran along what would further his own notoriety and what cape went well with what clichéd blood-red brooch. As for Kakistos, he'd lost all of his real power after the Renaissance and the Age of Enlightenment – no one cared for a washed-up has been whose vicious Maenad followers were now extinct.

"Go and hunt for dinner – and, if you don't start hunting before you stand in your master's presence, I'll personally make you eat your own spleens before killing you," he snapped icily, forcibly bringing his thoughts back to the present. He could see the relief on their faces as they rushed to comply – relief being that they had escaped a tongue-lashing from the great Angelus without permanent scarring.

He watched the two scurry off in that annoying, inelegant way that minions had, then he turned and nodded at Spike. Spike had lived with Angelus long enough to know his Sire's rendition of the 'silently telling you to bugger off' look, and he took control of the little minion marquee as he and Dru entered their abode. Angelus stayed behind, looking at Xander, who finally lifted his gaze to meet the demon's gaze.

They were all gathered in Buffy's living room. The Slayer was pacing equal steps up and down Giles' living room floor, behind the large couch: _One, two, three, four, five; one, two, three, four, five_… She remembered in amusement when she had shared this habit with Xander and he had instantly diagnosed her with OCD, while Willow had looked on, laughing. The amusement quickly turned to bitter anger when thoughts of Xander instantly led to the situation in which they now found themselves.

Buffy wasn't sure that she would ever be the same again, really. Her tryst with Angel had been, in her mind, the most wonderful night of her life…until. Until she'd woken up to find out that it had been the biggest mistake of her life, a mistake that would lead to a never ending nightmare that would haunt her and her friends for such a long time…She sighed. In her life, especially considering that she was a Slayer living on a Hellmouth, whenever things were going too perfectly, Hell usually came up with something to screw it up. And things had been going perfectly – Xander and Angel were even starting to talk to each other, Willow had come out of her shell and was noticing the attention that Oz was paying to her, Cordelia was becoming a true friend underneath the superficial layers, Giles and Jenny were starting to heat back up again.

So, of course, Angel, her one true love, had reverted back to the most evil and vicious vampire to ever walk the face of the Earth, reuniting with his insane, psychotic Childers Spike and Drusilla to heal Spike and reunite nearly all of the Scourge of Europe. They were only missing Darla, the maleficent Sire of Angelus himself, but in truth, the other three scared her more than Darla ever had (she had no idea what Darla had done to gain such notoriety, but Buffy's knowledge of her in Sunnydale had been so limited that she hadn't gained any true amount of fear of the beautiful blonde.

Now, Buffy was waking up every morning in tears, her mother was beginning to get suspicious enough to start asking questions about her daughter's strange hours, Giles and Jenny were again split, Oz was a werewolf, and Xander had been kidnapped by Angelus. Thinking about his strange behaviour before Angelus had taken him from the Bronze, Buffy had to swallow the bitter pill that Angelus had probably been stalking Xander for a while now, thus leading to the boy's totally wiggy behaviour.

She sighed again and turned to regard the other three in the surprisingly spacious living room. Willow was sitting on an easy chair, while Giles stood behind her and Jenny Calendar knelt in front of her, peering into the redhead's eyes. They were trying to bring Willow out of the strange, self-imposed shock that the girl had sunk into as soon as Buffy had dragged her away from the site where Xander had been snatched by Angelus and a pack of vampires. Willow's eyes were wide and vacant, her skin was paler than normal, and she hadn't spoken a word since she'd arrived at Giles' apartment.

"She's okay," Jenny announced calmly, standing up and moving away from the practically comatose girl.

"Okay?" Buffy snapped. "Look at her! She hasn't even—"

"Buffy," Jenny broke in gently. She's just in some kind of shock. She's been hit hard tonight, and she's going to take a while to get over it. She'll snap out of it on her own time; the mind needs time to heal itself."

Buffy opened her mouth to blast the witch, but Giles gave her a warning look, and she backed off. It said a lot about how fast she'd had to grow up since her seventeenth birthday that she even allowed Jenny to be here at all. The last time that she had had a conversation with the woman was right after Buffy had had a prophetic dream that Jenny Calendar was actually a Gypsy witch named Janna of the Kalderash tribe – the tribe who had originally cursed Angelus with a soul, turning him into Angel. Jenny had been sent to Sunnydale to ensure that Angel still suffered with remorse for his crimes against the Gypsy tribe, so she posed as the Computer Science teacher at Sunnydale High. What Jenny hadn't counted on was falling in love with Giles and finding out that Buffy was the Slayer, and that Angel and Buffy had fallen in love themselves.

Jenny's uncle Tomas had come to Sunnydale, furious with her due to the fact that the Elder Mother of the Kalderash tribe had had a vision telling her that Angel's suffering and guilt was less than it should have been with the Curse still intact. They had fought, and Jenny had conspired to separate Buffy and Angel. The plan had fallen apart, however, and Angel had reverted back to Angelus after experiencing a moment of pure happiness in Buffy's arms. Buffy would never, ever forget the first victim of Angelus' torture that she had seen: Jenny's uncle Tomas, spread-eagled on his hotel room bed, a look of pure horror obscuring his face (due, no doubt, to the vicious wounds all over his body, suggesting hours of torture), and a bloody gash in his neck where Angelus had ripped his jugular vein out with his teeth. The blood that had gushed all over the hotel room had been used to leave a bloody valentine on the wall for Buffy to find:

WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU TOO?

"Buffy," Jenny said presently, her voice drawing Buffy out of her melancholic reverie. She started slightly as she flew out of her thoughts, slamming her back into the present. She glanced around to see that Giles had taken a seat on the loveseat that she was pacing behind, and Jenny sat in the chair across from Willow. "We need you to tell us exactly what happened. Then we can make a decision from there," the witch said calmly, glancing at Giles to see if he agreed. Not surprisingly, her Watcher nodded; Buffy had to admit to herself that it was the wisest choice of action. She grudgingly admitted it, that is.

"Okay," she said, putting a firm halt to her pacing. She walked over to stand next to Willow. Maybe if her friend heard her talking about Xander, then she could snap out of this eerie sort of whitespace she'd sunk into. "We had all gone out to the Bronze, cause we wanted to get away…" she trailed off quietly, then mentally hit herself across the face. She needed to dig out of this welling of despair if she wanted to help her friend out. "We wanted to have some fun. I did a patrol through three of the cemeteries on the way to the Bronze, but there weren't any vamps in any of them. When we were in the club, Xander said that he needed some air. He went up to the second level, and me and Willow started talking about how Xander had been acting lately—"

"How he'd been acting?" Giles cut in quickly, confused.

"Xander's been really wiggy lately – he jumps a lot, and he won't talk about it. I don't think he's been sleeping much either," Buffy explained quickly. Jenny looked up at this, interested.

"Has he been acting like he's been being followed?" Jenny asked, sounding urgent. Buffy slowed down in her thinking. She knew that anything she could remember would help her friend at this point.

"Yeah," she said slowly. She thought back, hard, to the times when Xander would go out on patrol with her. "Yeah – he'd look over his shoulder a lot, like someone was staring at him! Willow was thinking that maybe Angel had…well…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"Started following him," Jenny finished smoothly, looking distinctly unruffled. "It would fit; Angelus has a pattern of stalking 'special' victims for months. It's what he did with Drusilla – the girl would wake up to find different presents or members of her family dead where only she would walk. If Angelus has been stalking Xander as closely as he did with Drusilla, then I fear that he might—"

"Turn Xander," Willow whispered. Buffy jumped, nearly upsetting the light stand next to her. It was the first thing that her friend had said since this impromptu meeting had started. Her face was still pale, but there was pure determination shining in her eyes – yup, Willow had her Resolve Face on. Buffy had seen it before; when Willow looked _that_ determined, she wouldn't stop until whatever problem she was up against was solved.

"Yes," Jenny said bluntly, though she gave Willow a gently encouraging smile. The novice Wiccan gave her teacher a small smile in return, and Giles nodded to himself. He also nodded to Buffy, and the Slayer took that as her cue to continue the story.

"Well, we hadn't seen Xander in like, fifteen minutes, so I went up to check on him. When I got up there, Angelus had Xander around the chest. Me and Will were trying to do a point thing, me taking his right and she his left, but Angelus had already figured that we'd try that. When we got up there, Spike and Dru were waiting. Spike's back," she said quietly. Giles started violently at that. Buffy didn't blame him; Spike had killed two Slayers in his undead lifetime, and Angelus had killed at least four. Drusilla, no one had any idea.

"I couldn't fight off all three of them anyway, but then like five lackeys jumped up too. He grabbed Xander and he jumped out the window, and by the time me and Willow got out to the front of the club, they were gone."

"No," Willow said quietly. She flushed as they all looked at her, and she stared out the window. Buffy knew that whatever her friend was going to say now would be intensely personal, so she shut up and let Willow have her say. "He didn't take Xander anywhere."

"What?" Giles asked quietly. When Willow turned to face them, she sounded small and scared.

"Xander went with him…willingly."

Xander didn't know what to think as Angelus slowly approached him. He'd followed the vampire blindly to the factory, not even thinking to be afraid. He was essentially marching into the belly of the beast – from what he'd seen of Angelus' forces, it stood to reason that there were going to be more than a small pack of vampires living within the factory. Buffy had had a hard enough time fighting off all of the Master's forces back during her first year in Sunnydale; compared to Angelus, the Master was small beans.

Thinking of Buffy led him to thinking of how he got in this whole mess, and also the inescapable guilt of being attracted to Angelus after what had happened with Buffy and Angel. Thinking of Angel in itself was strange; Xander had finally admitted to himself some time ago that he had been crushing on Angel hard. Not wanting to admit it to himself had led to the snarking and the insults that had constantly passed back and forth between himself and the souled vampire. He missed Angel…but he couldn't get Angelus out of his mind.

He felt like he was tearing himself apart at the seams, and having the outrageously gorgeous demon staring at him like he was a treat to be devoured wasn't helping the mental serenity, either.

"Xander, come with me," Angelus said quietly. It wasn't a question. Xander could feel doors of opportunity slamming open and shut. He was lost in a midnight forest where there was no moon to guide his steps, only the pale face of Angelus. Two worlds that he straddled now: the daemonic, and the human. He had the feeling that if he ran now, Angelus would allow him to leave…only to come for him later. Xander couldn't live his entire life on the run; it just wasn't who he was, how he was made.

And why should he run, anyway?

Back in the human world, he had Buffy and Willow, and Giles and Cordelia, but what was there for him, really? Fighting a war every night against the forces of darkness alongside a witch and a Slayer, while he just stood in the background, taking a punch every now and again? Xander Harris, the Zeppo, the loser of the group with no real powers. Hell, even Cordelia Chase could research better than he could. And if he went back there, would he ever not wonder about what Angelus had said? Would he be able to rest, or be haunted by the demon's words, spending the rest of his life searching for the answers to his past, which he might not ever be able to find?

He thought of Willow, his best friend, as close to him as a sister. He'd seen the pain in her eyes as he'd left with Angelus, and it had knifed him in the heart. He would never want to cause her pain, ever. Would she understand why he was here now? Would Buffy? He could think of Buffy as his best friend now, as well; the last pangs of the awkward teenage crush melting away in the face of one of the best (albeit strangely psycho) friendships he'd ever had. Buffy had filled the hole that Jesse's death had ripped in Xander's heart. Giles had taken Xander under his wing, become the parent that Xander had never had.

Could he be selfish enough to cause them pain searching for the answers to his life?

He looked up to the golden gaze of the vampire, his angelic face twisted in that strangely beautiful demonic visage, a bolt of pure possessiveness apparent in his savage gaze. The eyes of the vampire stuck Xander in place, held him, possessed him. And he knew that the answer was 'yes,' had always been yes. And he knew which decision he would make.

Angelus watched his boy, carefully not making any movements, leaving it open for Xander to make his own choices. He would train the boy in obedience later; for now, Xander had to agree to stay with him willingly or Angelus' well-laid plans would be set back. Xander would be his, body, mind, and soul. Angelus would own him. He watched curiously as the agonised mask of indecisive thought wavered, and then smoothed itself out of Xander's face. A decision had been made, a door in Xander's thoughts had been closed. Angelus held his hand out.

Neither boy nor demon acknowledged the bolt of erotic electricity that raced up both of their spines as Xander took Angelus' hand.

They walked together into the factory, and Xander knew then that this was a departure from everything that he'd ever known, and that he was entering the unknown, likely forever. For once in his life, it was a good feeling.

A/N: Okay, I'm working on another story right now. I know, I thought I wasn't going to while I was writing this one as well. But, since I have the whole plotline already worked out and the first chapter of the other story ready to be posted by the end of this week, I'm going to do it, damn it! Anyway, all of the real meat of the Xangelus-y goodness is going to start in the next chapter. Author's warning: all of the Scooby meetings from here on out will be total angst-fests as they try to get Xander back. But they also reach some important decisions, so don't skip over anything. I promise, it is all very important.

A note about the other story: I don't know how many people will be interested, because there weren't a lot of people that liked the movie, but I did, so I'm writing this fic. It's called Elektra and will be posted in (you guessed it!) the _Elektra_ category in MOVIES. It's the first part of a trilogy, and will hopefully be pretty good. That being said, if any of my kick-ass reviewers from this story will review that story, I'll cry of happiness (I was going to say die, but then you guys wouldn't know the ending of this story, because I wouldn't be able to write it, and that would thuswise suck).

AND A BONUS TO MY REVIEWERS: Thank you so, so much for all of the reviews. I have nearly forty reviews (which sounds kind of small compared to some of the stories on this site, but it's really, really big to me, so hah), and only one of them was bad. You guys are the stuff that makes the writer keep writing. So, with that in mind, even with the first chapter of my other story being posted soon, I swear I'll try to post the next chapter by the end of next week. You guys rock!

Spread the word! Pimp my story out to your friends (just kidding)!

Until next chapter, I remain your faithful author,

PyroPadawan.

(Oh, and P. S.: I'm really friggin' tired of my pen name. I made it up like, three, four years ago when I was still a Star Wars nut and trying to tie the Phoenix (my personal totem) into it. It's kind of crappy. If anyone knows how to change your pen name without changing anything else or withdrawing your stories off the site and putting them on a different account, please drop me a line and tell me how to do this. The help is really, _really _appreciated. Thanks!)


	8. VII Introspect, Part I: Xander

A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to get back to work on this story. Writing the first chapter of my _Elektra_ story took up a bit longer than I had originally thought. But, no worries; I expect that a lot of you romance buffs will be very happy, because here's where the meat of the Xangelus relationship begins. (And a special note – this little segue won't eat up story space as much as the Balcony Scenes did – there will only be these two little introspects, which will happen simultaneously, before the story propels onward.)

A side note: Pretty much, these particular chapters are about Xander's developing relationship with Angelus – the Scooby Gang isn't going to feature much in these chapters, but what they were doing while all of this was happening will be explained later.

An additional side note: For all of you people expecting a nice, cuddly Angelus, go kill yourselves. Just kidding, but, seriously. Not all of this story is fandom. Angelus is the most vicious killer to ever walk the face of the earth. He's psychotic, whimsical with his bloody messages to people, and when he 'fell in love' with Drusilla he killed her entire family and drove her insane before he turned her. Let's keep with some reality here, please.

Disclaimer: As posted before.

Distribution: As posted before.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_chapter VII_

Introspect, Part I:

Xander

Xander woke up feeling strange. He sighed as he rubbed his head, scratching at his chest lazily. _Ha, multitasking_, he thought hazily. His room seemed darker than usual, and he sighed again. _Did they forget to pay the electricity bill _again... He blinked blearily as he gazed around. The sights and sounds of an unfamiliar room quickly jolted the memory back, and he froze as last night's events hit him again with the feel of a sledgehammer to the chest.

He looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. It was a large room; if he had to guess, it was probably the largest room in the factory. It had recently been painted a dark red (probably by the minions). The room was richly attired; there was a recently bought (or stolen) wooden armoire in the corner, a fireplace that had been hastily bricked over to make it look more appealing. There was a large, comfortable looking easy chair near the fire, with a plush footrest next to the front.

The bed that Xander lay in was a queen sized four poster, with a silky canopy hanging from the tops. The sheets were silk (natch, considering Angelus' decadent tastes), with two bedside cabinets, one on each side. There was a bookcase up against the wall, but all of the books looked too old or in varied languages for him to easily read. A bathroom was connected to the side, but the standard industrial sign for a unisex bathroom had been removed.

There was a fire burning cheerily in the fireplace, casting flickering light to all corners of the room. Xander breathed deeply in comfort as a blissfully warm breeze enveloped him underneath the large comforter that had been draped over him. He had a strange moment of perfect comfort. The bed was soft, but not soft enough to keep his back from needing more firmness. The pillows were plush down beneath him, and he'd never woken up in such warm surroundings before.

He felt…safe, here. Cared for. It was a not completely comforting thought, as some of the turns of the conversation he'd had with Angelus the night before filtered through his mind. _Shit_, he thought belatedly. Buffy and Willow…he purposefully turned his mind away from that train of thought. He'd made his choice, and he was going to have to live with the consequences. For now, he would find something else to concentrate on.

This was a very easy thing to accomplish in itself: he was lying stark naked in a strange bed in a strange room, in the care of a psychotic vampire that was known for taking pleasure in whimsical love games with his victims that ended in scenes of graphic, torturous, and in other ways deeply pornographic displays of death. He was being faced with the possibility of daemonic/Wiccan heritage, and said vampire had been stalking him and sending him 'love letters' for three weeks. Xander gulped nervously as he thought about how Angelus might want reciprocation in that department.

Xander had always nursed a private attraction to Angel. It had been part of what had made him lash out at the big, broody immortal so much; it was the first time that Xander had ever had such feelings for another man, and he had lived all his life with Tony Harris, who ran with a crowd that redefined the term 'homophobia.' Confused, aroused, tormented, Xander had compensated by the ridiculous (and thankfully short-lived) relationship with Cordelia Chase in an attempt to convince himself that he wasn't, in any way, shape, or form, masturbating at night from thoughts about his best friend's _boy_friend.

It hadn't helped, of course. Hell, Xander masturbated as much as the next teenager, but he'd never had a wet dream in his life…until Angel had become part of the Scooby Gang. That summer that Buffy had gone to Los Angeles to see her father after the mess with the Master and the Hellmouth (and Willow assured him constantly that if _he_ had been there to see the monster that had risen from the depths of Hell, he'd still be having nightmares as well), the occasional times that Angel would pass through his life without even noticing him now that Buffy wasn't there, had been hellish for Xander – and not too easy on his self-esteem, either.

So he reacted badly. He lashed out, trying his damnedest to hurt Angel as much as the souled vampire was unknowingly hurting him. He had nearly fractured his relationship with Buffy through it, as the vampire gradually went from being hurt by Xander's comments to replying with equal venom. Buffy and Willow would constantly harp on him about being nice to Angel, but Xander just kept going about how "Angel was a vampire and he shouldn't be allowed near the gang," and all that other crap that he cooked up.

Really, what was hidden behind the words was that "Hey, Buffy, you know this whole time I've been spouting off about how evil Angel is? Well, it was all an elaborate cover to prove that I don't want to crawl into Angel's bed and never leave. Funny, huh?"

Hi-fucking-larious.

Xander had gradually given up on the insults, and just took to trying to stay as far away from Angel as possible. But how could he? Angel was an integral part of the researching and slaying process. Xander would watch Angel sit away from Buffy, all of his little tics somehow endearing to Xander's mind—_how can I _not_ jump his bones when he does all those cute little things like that?!_—and he would desperately try to read his books when all he would do was stare across the way at Angel.

He remembered the one time that Angel had caught him staring. The big, gentle vampire had been reading something while Buffy was busy practicing staking techniques with Giles, when he had felt eyes on him and looked up. He'd caught Xander's eye, a quizzical look on his face. Xander had flushed red with embarrassment when he had realised that Angel was preparing himself for an insult. Xander had slammed his book shut so hard that everyone in the library jumped and ran as fast as he could out of the library.

Buffy had asked him about it that night, before her birthday party, but he had shrugged off her questions. Less easy had been dodging Angel's questions at the Bronze that they had rented for the night before Buffy had shown up. That had been _hell_ on earth; Angel actually looked _concerned_ for him. Him. Xander fucking Harris, the boy who had spent practically an entire year making life hard on him, and Angel was worried about him. But that was just who the vampire _was_; he had an annoying tendency to put other's problems before his own (annoying when it wasn't totally endearing, of course).

That night, Xander had thanked Angel for the first time ever. He remembered the vampire's smile, a private smile that Xander somehow knew wasn't for Buffy, but for _him_. Of course, that had been the night that Jenny Calendar had announced that Angel had to leave to take the Judge's various body parts far, far away. Buffy had been devastated. Xander had thought that he was going to curl up in a foetal ball and cry like a little girl.

That night had probably ranked as one of the worst nights of his life. He had thought that Angel was going to leave, but then he hadn't. He'd come back, and he and Buffy had gone out for a reconnaissance mission to see what was up with the Judge. Instead they had slept together, and Angel had had a moment of true happiness, which led to him losing his soul. That had felt like a knife to the heart. It had been even worse to see Buffy waiting for him to say 'I told you so.'

Looking at yourself in the mirror and realising how petty your life can become over love isn't exactly the best thing in the world. Xander had known that he had it coming. He remembered how Angel had come back to the school. They'd all acted like everything was fine, but deep down, Xander just...knew. It was like he'd spent so much time observing Angel that when Angelus tried to masquerade as the soulful vampire, Xander had just _known_ that it wasn't him. He'd turned and ran back, just in time to save Willow's life.

He remembered with a shudder the first night that the three of them had met Angelus again, all together…

_Buffy, him, and Willow were all walking through the cemetery. It had been nearly three weeks since the attack in the mall, and neither Xander nor Willow had seen Angelus since that nightmare attack at the high school. Buffy was apparently still being stalked, but she didn't like to talk about it much (no kidding). She had reluctantly agreed to let the two of them go on patrol with her merely because she needed the comfort of her friends with her._

_Xander had started cracking jokes as a way to lift Buffy's spirits. It wasn't really working, but she sent him the occasional grateful look that told him she appreciated that he was trying. Then Willow started talking about a math assignment that was difficult for her, and Buffy and Xander both groaned. "Change the subject, please," Buffy said, actually smiling for the first time in weeks._

"_Gladly, Buff," Angelus said with a malicious grin, stepping out of the shadows for all the world like Count Dracula. Only much, much scarier. The smile looked like it had been slapped off of Buffy's face, and Xander had gritted his teeth. Yes, he was suffering from the whole Angel/Angelus thing, but his was a private pain. Buffy was going through much, much worse, and she didn't deserve to have it thrown in her face like this._

"_Angel," she said, faltering. He smiled, tilting his head in response._

"_Top o' the evenin' to ya," he said, an insidiously sexy Irish lilt broadcasting through his voice as he smiled with pernicious intent at the three shattered Scoobies. "Now, tell me: what would bring three such foine young things through a cemetery at nightfall? T'isn't safe, don't y'know?" he scolded them, a mockingly parental tone creeping into his voice._

_Buffy looked like she was either going to destroy something or cry. Willow was as white as a sheet, trembling from head to foot. Given Buffy's past track record with actually managing to attack Angelus, Xander instantly put himself in front of his friends. "Go fuck yourself, you sick undead cockmuncher!" he snarled. Angelus looked taken aback at the sheer venom in Xander's voice, before his features twisted into his true demonic form. He grinned viciously before darting forward and grabbing Xander by the throat._

_This finally served to spring Buffy into action. She leapt forward with an inarticulate snarl, stake in hand. Angelus grinned as he swiftly sucker-punched her in the jaw. She went flying; she hit a tombstone hard and didn't get back up. Willow shrieked and ran to help her fallen friend. Angelus went back to glaring and snarling at Xander._

"_Cockmuncher, eh, boyo?" he snarled. A mischievous grin lit up his features as he leaned forward and kneaded his face surprisingly gently into Xander's neck. Xander froze, arousal and terror arcing throughout his entire being. "Wishful thinking? Still trying to hide your hard on for that stupid souled bastard?" Angelus whispered mockingly, his words scarring on Xander's fragile ego. "Well, I'm not him…but I'm willing to bet that ye are a natural-born cocksucker. Care to test my theory?" he murmured with a mocking smile arched against Xander's neck. Xander sobbed in terror and horror and misery all at once. "Guess not. Shame to put those dicksucking lips to waste, though, don't ye think?"_

_Xander went flying, hitting the ground hard. He didn't get up again; he just lay there, stunned and shaken. "Be seein' ya around, Buffy," Angelus trilled out, before heading off into the night. Buffy and Willow both ran to Xander. Buffy had tears pouring down her face, but Xander knew that he would force himself to wait until he'd reached home and bolted all the doors before curling in on himself in agony…_

Xander jerked himself out of thoughts of that night with a forceful shudder. That had been one of the worst nights of his life; the demon's words playing and replaying in his mind over and over until Xander had gone to the bathroom and thrown up everything in his stomach, sobbing so hard that he nearly suffocated himself.

The most recent of his conversations with Angelus was still shining brightly in his mind. What the hell was going on? He sighed as he pulled himself out of bed. He froze as he realised that he was stark naked. _Where the Hell are my clothes?!_ He jerked in shock as the door handle began to turn. He grabbed the thing closest to him and turned around, facing the potential threat.

Angelus walked into the room to find Xander, terrified, defiant, angry, aroused, and wrapped in a sheet. Their eyes never left each other's as Angelus slowly, slowly closed the door, locking them in together.

A/N: The next chapter will, obviously hold Angelus' thoughts while all this chaos was swirling around in Xander's brain, and then the story will move on from there. For all of you wondering why I haven't reviewed, I've been stuck at home without access to the internet to post all of this stuff, and I won't have access to it for another three days. By the time that I finally _do_ get to get back online, I'll probably be posting three chapters in my _Elektra_ story and two in this and still be working on the third in a week. Anyway, be expecting the Angelus side of this to either be posted _with_ this chapter, or within a days worth of this chapter being posted.

Thanks so much to all of my loyal reviewers – I'm really hoping to top fifty reviews. It's a very exciting time. Your words of encouragement and the occasional correction have been of very, very great help. Thanks with all of my heart,

PyroPadawan.


	9. VIII Introspect, Part II: Angelus

A/N: As I sit here, struggling to string together a nice, interesting opening about me, I come to a startling conclusion: why should I waste time trying to think of something to say? I am writing this chapter in the same day that I wrote the one before in this story. Why? Because I already wrote the next chapter in my _Elektra_ story, and now have nothing to do. I am bored out of my skull. So I'll write this chapter. And skip the long introduction…though now that I've reached the conclusion that I _shouldn't_ struggle to write an opening, all the words are coming through. I hate myself sometimes. Am I alone?

Disclaimer: See above.

Distribution: See above.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter VIII_

Introspect, Part II:

Angelus

Angelus was redefining the term 'self-control.' And it was seriously beginning to ride on him. How could it not? Here he was, the most feared and vicious vampires to ever be born, free at last from the mental prison placed upon him with the Ensoulment Curse by the thrice-damned Gypsies, and he wasn't out having a grand old time mutilating the unsuspecting populace of Sunnydale, California. No, he was stewing in his own frustration in a room _that wasn't even his own bedchamber!_

The thought of his bedchamber brought his thoughts instantly under control. Not really of the chamber itself, though the minions had done a surprisingly good job on cleaning it up for him; no, he was really more focussed on the prize that lay inside. The conversation the night before at the Bronze had gone better than Angelus could ever have imagined; Xander's responses had been both unpredictable and promising.

By nature, Angelus was a patient planner. Hell, he'd waited an extra week after he'd had all of his answers to start talking to the boy, just to make sure than every plan he'd anally obsessed over was going to be followed to the T. And of course it had; even after more than a century of Curse-driven foolishness, the name of Angelus still meant something in the vampiric community. He was more than a legend, he was a nightmare. And each and every one of his minions that night had known the consequences of failure.

Still, thinking of how close his boy was to him, and restraining himself from going to him, was chafing. Self-restraint was not something that Angelus was used to, and he now understood why; it was notoriously annoying. What he really wanted now was to just go in there and Claim Xander to him, to take him with fangs and with his body, to own him – but, no. Leave the impulsive idiocy to brutes like Spike. He wanted Xander the way that Angel had already had him – owned by his own submission.

Angelus considered it something of a cruel irony, the fact that Xander had fallen in love with his better half. Angelus was determined that Xander never knew how haunted by thoughts of the boy Angel had been. He wanted Xander to believe that Angelus was the only one who loved him, or his plans would be dashed. Thinking of dashed plans, Angelus was forced to consider the Slayer. She was proving to be more of problem than he'd imagined; true, she hadn't yet been able to lift a finger to stop him, but she had been resourceful enough to figure out how to defeat the Judge, a supposedly truly immortal being.

Staying in the factory was a risk, he knew; Buffy probably knew that Spike and Drusilla were staying there with the shattered remnants of the Order of Aurelius. Angelus snorted. He wasn't much of one for pomp and ceremony. He thought back over the years to the time when he had first met the creator of the Order, the self-styled Master, with Darla, and smirked. Darla had brought her new Childe Angelus to the attention of her own Sire – much to his detriment. Angelus had laughed in the Master's face, and they had proceeded to all out brawl. Angelus, still a new Childe and as yet not at his full power, had been beaten, but he'd still managed to walk out with Darla.

Thinking of Darla filled him with a mixture of melancholy and anger. He had killed his own Sire. Such was an abomination in the vampire world, and not only to tradition. Darla had been a classic beauty, statuesque and blonde, an incarnation of Aphrodite. She had been marvellously cruel (not as much as he was, of course, but still), and maddeningly tempting – he remembered the gruelling sexual marathons she'd run him through, teaching him the pleasures of the world that he'd only dreamt of when he was a dull, drunk Irish lad named Liam. They would make love for days, her tempting him to the height of orgasm and then refusing to get him off, until he was angry enough to punish her.

They had toured the world together, created Drusilla together (and eventually Spike), shared a bond that even that Souled coward Angel hadn't dreamt of with Buffy…and he'd driven a crossbow bolt through her heart without the slightest hesitation to save the life of that beautiful blonde bitch. Angelus growled in rage as he stared into the fireplace. Thinking of the Soul only made him think of the rift that had been allowed to grow between himself and his Childers.

Angelus, Darla, Drusilla and Spike, and then eventually Penn. Oh, how they'd run rampant through Europe, terrorising and fighting, loving and hating, a bloody, incestuous cult. The Scourge of Europe, they'd been called, sharing a bond that nothing could break…until those damned Gypsies conjured up the perfect punishment for his crime. Angelus could still remember the tightness of that stupid Gypsy whore's cunt as he'd rammed himself in her, nearly fucking her to death and then sharing her blood with his beloved Darla. If only he could have foreseen the consequences of that action!

It was a small consolation that the camp had been utterly destroyed by his Sire and his Childers not long afterwards. He could remember his years of wandering, lost, lonely and practically crazed by the soul now burning away in his demon's heart. It was wrong, unnatural; he tried to claw it out, nearly staking himself to get it out. His every instinct screamed at him to hunt down the humans, to feed, but he'd only fed on the blood of animals.

He had sought out his Sire and his family, desperately seeking some sort of familiarity, some sort of familial warmth with which to ground his rampaging emotions, to chain his soul. Instead, he had run from Darla when she'd demanded a baby being killed by him, and nearly staked his Childers that night, half out of his head with the pain of rejection. He'd come to his senses, luckily enough, and ran.

And now, here he was, brooding over his past like that damn Souled bastard. He threw himself up from his seat and paced through the room, thinking. Breaking Xander to his will would take time, and it would need to be done carefully. The boy was fragile in ways, and strong in others. The obvious abuse that he'd borne in his old home would go far to protect him from being physically broken in, and had also given him a considerable mental defence. However, that which made him strong also made him weak. The boy was starved for affection.

Gentility wasn't exactly the strongest of Angelus' tricks, but it could all be accomplished. Xander's defences were already lower than they should be where he was concerned. But he did need to worry about moving to a new locale; the factory was already too easily found by the Slayer. The Slayer…thinking about her was enough to set off a new wave of growling. She had inspired love and adoration, practically obsession in the Soul, but Angelus merely wanted her dead. But more than that – this girl had made him feel…_good_. He snarled in disgust.

But his revenge on the Slayer would have to wait for a little while. Now, his focus was entirely on owning his boy. The door clicked open and he turned, unsurprised to see his two Childers entering what Angelus had mockingly dubbed 'the Sitting Room,' as it was the only room in the house aside from his own chambers that had enough furniture to make it comfortable. But that had ever been Spike's problem: not enough pre-planning. He relied on luck and his own skill at fighting to survive. It still filled Angelus with pride at the idea that one of his favoured Childers had laid low two Slayers, and that Drusilla had slain one herself. But they had grown far too independent of their "Daddy" for his tastes. It was time to reign them in.

"Ooh, Daddy, how he sparkles and shines! Everything in my head is singing!" Dru moaned ecstatically. Since the Love Spell had worn off, she seemed to have completely forgotten the fight over Xander that she'd waged against her Sire. _Good_, Angelus thought. Xander was a prize – he had the same problem as Drusilla. Too much goodness and just the right hint of magic in his soul made for a far too tempting prize to scores of demons. Xander himself, since learning of the world of monsters, had been nearly mated and killed by a giant preying mantis, fell in love with an ancient Incan mummified princess…the sooner that Xander was Claimed and Marked to his master's satisfaction, the better.

"Yeah, we got you you're bit of fluff, then," Spike said presently, breaking into Angelus' thoughts. "So when're we gonna get on and kill of that bloody Slayer instead of dancing around her friends?" he demanded.

"Impatient, Spike," Angelus tutted admonishingly. "The key to dear, sweet Saint Buffy lies in her friends – the little idiots that always managed to do _you_ in are where her weakness is. Get them all, and all you have is a scared little blonde bitch trying to stab you with a stake," he explained slowly, his every word carving marks of derision towards Spike's swelled ego.

Sure enough, his Childe shot him an evil look as he lit up a cigarette. Angelus sent him a sweet smile in return, before he sprang into motion and slammed his fist straight into Spike's face. Spike yelled in surprise and pain and his nose shattered under the force of his master's fist, and he fell to the floor. Angelus looked down at him dispassionately.

"Manners, boy," he snapped coldly. "I'm no fool minion that you can guttersnipe at. You'll show respect for your Sire," he continued, his every word driving like an icicle into Spike's centre. "Drusilla, come here," he ordered coldly as she went to help Spike up. She turned to her Sire with a mixture of confusion, apprehension and love splayed across her face.

"Yes, Daddy?" she asked hesitantly. She walked toward him with that strange walk of hers, somewhere between drifting and dancing. He grabbed her hard enough to bruise as soon as she was within reach. She moaned in pain and desire. He could smell her arousal, but tonight was not the night to respond to it. This was discipline.

"He'll get help when he's earned it, Dru," he snapped. His fierce yellow eyes dared her to contradict him. Sensing that this wasn't the time for adoration, she nodded, bowing her head submissively. "Ye've both gotten away from my control for too long," he said coldly. Spike glared at him defiantly, which was rewarded with a steel-toed boot to the ribs, breaking one of them. He gasped in pain, instantly bowing his head in submission. "That's better," Angelus said coldly. "Now, I've some business to take care of, and ye're not to interfere. Await my orders…

"Oh, and another thing?" he called out as they prepared to leave. They turned, sensing that now was not the time to piss him off. "If either of you so much as lays a finger on my boy, I'll make you eat each other's hearts, Childers or no," he said coldly. He flashed his fangs by way of confirmation of his threat. They both shuddered. They may not have been under Angelus' control for more than a century, but they knew when the master's words must be obeyed. He nodded, satisfied. It wasn't as permanent and protective as a Claim, but it would keep them away for the time being.

It was time, anyway – Angelus' senses, hyper-sensitive to the sweet boy lying up in his bed, could sense Xander quickening to wakefulness. He grabbed the bag that held what he needed for this first meeting, and headed out toward the chamber. Minions bowed in submission as he passed, and he nodded imperiously. He was wearing no shirt and only black leather pants with the button undone, and he knew that that would help…sweeten the boy up a little bit. In time for his first lesson, anyway.

_My boy. My hot, sweet little bitch,_ he thought to himself with a wolfish smile. He sped up, hurrying in a way that he hadn't since the days of Darla. There was a deep-driven need inside of him to be with his boy, speaking of a bond between them that had already been established. He decided to be pleased by this development, but it was worrying also. He needed to be the master that Xander unconsciously desired, needed to be strong and firm.

He was in a black mood, a mixture of anger, lust, and apprehension darkening his gaze. And so it was that Angelus walked into the room to find Xander, terrified, defiant, angry, aroused, and wrapped in a sheet. Their eyes never left each other's as Angelus slowly, slowly closed the door, locking them in together.

A/N: Starting next chapter, there is gonna be some BDSM. I'm not talking all with the heavy, fetishes and stuff, but Xander is being trained to be Angelus' pet, not to be his cute little lover. The chapters might get a little graphic (hello, demon) and if such things offend you, then you might want to wait until I post a chapter after an event (I'll announce when it's safe to read again). Also, this is rated M. There will be sex. There will be sex between two men, between a man and a woman, and probably between two women.

Yet again, if these things offend you – don't read it!

And, on a bonus note – I passed fifty reviews! I'm having a day of kudos to myself – it's been a sweet ride. Now, of course, I'll be expecting to pass 100 before the last chapter of this story is published. You wouldn't disappoint this face, would you?

Five by five and livin' large

PyroPadawan.


	10. IX Interlude: Hello?

A/N: I am re-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, from the movie onwards (I know, I know, the movie is amusing in its inadequacy, but I still love watching it – it's so amusing in its campy-ness), and I just watched "The Body" in Season Five. I'm so freaking depressed (major WARNING: Angsty Rant Ahead).

Last year, in October, my grandfather passed away. He had the _exact_ same condition as Joyce Summers did – he had a successful tumour removal from his brain, and he got as good as he ever was…until he had a haemorrhage, and he died very suddenly. Watching that episode is, in some ways, like a knife to the gut. And I think that's why Buffy was so successful: it reaches into you and makes you _feel_.

So, you'll excuse me if this chapter is a little angst-y, but I really need to work this out of my system. So I'll write this chapter as to how all of the Scooby Gang react to having Xander taken away, and this will just be the theme throughout Angelus' kidnap of Xander. After this chapter, I'll get on with the rest of the story – it's just one of those spur-of-the-moment things that I have to get out of my system. Thanks for bearing with me—you guys rock!

NOTE: The chapter title stems from the song lyrics, obviously, and _Hello_ was written by Amy Lee and Ben Moody of Evanescence – all rights reserved, blah, blah, blah…

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter IX_

Hello?

Oz and Jenny were standing by as they watched the 'Scooby Gang' fall to pieces.

_Playground school bell rings_

_Again_

_Rain clouds come to parade_

_Again_

It wasn't the most obvious of things; most of the people who knew them couldn't tell. It was more of an internal thing, it was more of something that the two people who were close to insiders of the Scooby Gang could see because they knew what they were looking for. It was in the little things. The way that Buffy and Willow snapped at each other, and then instantly looked horrified that they'd fought and made up faster than most people could count to three.

It was there in the way that Giles would frantically research everything and explode at anyone who interrupted, before furiously cleaning his glasses off and apologising profusely for his rudeness. "He's being so much more…British," Willow would explain to Oz sadly, in the few times that she was really willing to open up and speak to him.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing?_

_Hello_

_I am your mind_

_Giving you someone to talk to_

_Hello?_

Buffy now had a scar on her midriff; she'd been doing a routine patrol when a dark-haired vampire had jumped out at her. She'd hesitated; it might have been Xander. What she got instead was an airhead minion who'd gotten a lucky swing with a butterfly knife. When Giles found her at her home, her knuckles were bleeding. She'd beaten the thing to a pulp, to the point where its demon fled from its face, thoroughly cowed, and the human visage had re-emerged. Once she'd found that it wasn't Xander, she had just kept beating it until she'd decapitated it to dust with her own fists.

When Jenny had heard about this, she'd been shocked. She'd known, of course, that all that was weighing on the Slayer's mind was bound to hurt, but Buffy had never seemed capable of such utter…_rage_ before. Until…

_If I smile and don't_

_Believe_

Willow had never before attempted a bolt of harmful energy before (to most Wiccans, most commonly called a jinx). Jenny had carefully instructed her in how to channel her energy, but not to let her anger and darker emotions bleed into the spell. Giles had been checking books into the library when he'd stumbled across a volume that Xander had checked out in better days. The mention of her best friend's name made Willow flinch. Oz and Buffy leapt backward as Willow's pupils suddenly expanded beyond human comprehension, staining her eyes pure black, as she shot a burst of red energy from her hands, burning a hole in the wall where the door leading to the courtyard had once stood.

_Soon I know_

_I'll wake_

_From this dream_

Giles drank more now than he used to. Jenny watched this with concern, a concern that Buffy shared. While the Slayer and the Gypsy still weren't on the best of terms, Buffy seemed to have more or less forgiven her for her involvement in the Angel/Angelus debacle. Jenny would come to Giles' apartment to find the bourbon or the brandy or the scotch down on the kitchen counter.

He wouldn't speak to her about it, but she knew, anyway. Xander came from an abusive home; it was obvious to anyone who knew him, even without Willow's first-hand knowledge. Xander had latched on to Giles as the father figure that he'd never really had, and Giles had taken that responsibility as gravely as he took his duties as a Watcher. It was disturbing, the level of depression that one boy's disappearance could take on the band of evil-fighters.

And depression was settling in, to a point where people could see it. Cordelia even remarked on it to Oz when she passed him in the halls that Buffy and Willow both looked even worse than they usually did. Since dumping Xander for the whims of her in-crowd, Cordelia had gotten a little deeper. She thought more now than she used to, which the werewolf supposed was a good thing.

Maybe the only good thing that had come of this mess.

_Don't try to fix me—_

_I'm not broken_

Thankfully, there had been no more direct attacks from Angelus since Xander's disappearance. What was it now? Three weeks? Nearly a month, and they still hadn't figured out Angelus' new hideout. Nearly one month. They didn't even know if Xander was alive. Not that Jenny or Oz were suicidal enough to mention this to the three remaining core members of the Scooby Gang.

_Hello_

_I am the lie_

_Living for you so you can hide_

_Don't cry_

It was easy to see that Xander had meant more to the Scooby Gang than most people would have guessed at first glance. His wisecracks in the face of death, his constant and supporting attitude that lifted Buffy up enough to feel that she had some help in holding the weight of the world by herself. Willow was drawing in to herself, her extroverted friend suddenly gone. She was rather monosyllabic, and she only really spoke to Giles or Buffy or Oz or Jenny.

Buffy and Willow had nearly come to blows one day when Buffy asked what Willow had meant when Willow had said that Xander had run away _with_ Angelus. Jenny had been forced to use magic to break the two apart, and Giles drew even deeper into himself as his two girls fought over the disappearance of his boy.

They had all gone together to Xander's parents' house to find most of Xander's things missing after a couple of days. Xander's mother was recovering from a non-lethal neck wound after she'd drunkenly invited some of Angelus' minions into her home. Giles had pointed out that this was an encouraging sign that Angelus wasn't planning on Turning Xander. Buffy had snorted and stormed out of the house.

_Suddenly I know I'm not dreaming_

It hit them all like a cold glass of water one day, like it had to. Xander was gone. They had no way of getting him back. And Oz and Jenny were forced to watch as they fell apart. And there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing to be done…

_Hello?_

_I'm still here_

_All that's left of yesterday._

A/N: Like I said, major angst-fest. If you'll notice, though, this chapter spans for about a month-and-a-half. This chapter is all that was happening to the Scooby Gang while we're busy reading about Xander and Angelus – just a head's up.

(Fifty-five reviews!)


	11. X Rules Of Engagement

A/N: Alright, so, let's start with apologies. This summer vacation has been absolutely _insane_, and I've been traveling and also relaxing from such a nightmarish school year so much that it took me a month or so to realize that I'd spent so much time away from my story. You'll never believe how long it took me to get started on this chapter, and then how long it took me to finish it. I'm kind of plunging into new territory here, so the writing process has been a little cramped. But, anyway, I'm back, and I'm sorry that I've been away for so long without updates.

The next item up on the list is some technical notes: A reviewer recently asked me if Xander was so powerful, shouldn't he be able to kick Angelus' ass? My answer: Xander's power is contained right now, and it hasn't been released, nor is he even aware of it.

Also, Xander was technically 'kidnapped' at the beginning of the season two episode "Passion" (arguably one of the best written, acted, and tragic episode in the series), but, in case any of you haven't noticed, Jenny Calendar isn't dead! This is because I need her for later chapters – she's just such a good romantic foil for Giles that she fits in later chapters. So, she hasn't figured out the Ensoulment Curse for herself yet – but she _is_ working on it…

Special A/N: Let's all remember that the previous installment, "Hello?" is taking place all throughout the next set of chapters, during Xander's stay chez Angelus. So, with that said, let's get back to the story.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter X_

Rules of Engagement

"Where are my clothes?"

It had seemed like the most pertinent question that Xander could have asked when it was sounding out in his head, but suddenly it seemed to not matter as much as other things. Such as the fact that he was in an unknown location, a prisoner of Angelus, willing or not. He struggled to put on a blank face as opposed to the chaos swirling around inside his mind. Of course, the whole dignity thing would have helped had his dick not been stirring due to the undeniably sexy slide of silk sheets over his unclothed member…not to mention Angelus standing there and staring at him with those impenetrable black eyes….

"I see you're awake."

The way he was smirking at Xander's groin, Xander just had to sarcastically wonder if Angelus was aware of the double entendres dripping from his tone of voice. Xander's eyes narrowed. He might have come here because he wanted answers from Angelus (_you want something else from Angelus, too_, his brain nastily informed him), but that didn't mean that he was just going to let Angelus walk all over him.

Drawing himself up with all the dignity that he could muster (the fact that his cock was half-mast didn't really help with that situation), he looked Angelus right in the eye and said, "You didn't answer my question."

Icicles were warmer than his tone of voice. Angelus' eyes widened a fraction, and then narrowed to slits. "Watch your tone, boy," he said flatly. If Xander wanted to play this game, fine; he wasn't going to coddle the boy to get what he wanted. Xander would submit to him, he knew that; but he wanted to boy to do it by choice. If, however, a little persuasion was needed…

Well, he _was_ a vampire.

"Or what?" Xander challenged. Angelus smirked, and Xander felt a little uneasy. This wasn't the same game that he'd been playing on the balcony at the Bronze; Angelus was playing by different rules now, rules that Xander wasn't completely familiar with, but he wasn't illiterate enough in the field to recognize what it was. He blinked, suddenly feeling queasy, as, with a flash of leather and a blur of preternatural speed, Angelus moved.

"Jesus Christ!" he yelled as he found himself lying down on the bed with Angelus on top of him, looking not even winded. Xander stared up at him, all of his uneasiness finding its way back to the top of his mind. Angelus wasn't smiling, or even smugly smirking anymore, he was just regarding him calmly, as if looking for words.

Xander wasn't sure that he wanted to know what those words were. Lines of demarcation between what was right and what wasn't, between what he should want and what he shouldn't, were starting to blur. Willow had taken a semester of psychology when they'd been freshmen, and she'd told him about some passage in a book she'd been reading about the subconscious and what it controlled. Something about 'our most secret and dangerous desires, the monsters and demons from the Id,' if he remembered correctly.

_Boy, who'd have thought that those little tidbits would come to mind in a situation like this?_ Well, delirium is a funny thing, and now all Xander could seem to focus on was the impossibly beautiful face of an angel, hovering a mere foot from his face.

"It's time for us to talk about some house rules while you're here, boy," Angelus said, staring down at Xander with an inscrutable expression on his face. Xander stopped squirming against the big, immovable body holding him down to stare back into the vampire's face. Something else was going on here; there was some part of this that he hadn't signed up for. At all.

"Rules," Xander said slowly.

"Rules," Angelus agreed, still with that maddeningly calm demeanor. Xander frowned.

"Fine. Get off me," he said, struggling to sit up.

"No." Flatly.

"Get _off_ me, Angelus," Xander snapped. He wasn't in the mood to screw around with vamp power games.

"Watch your tone," Angelus said again, coldly. The tone of his voice stopped Xander's struggles, at least temporarily. Angelus looked mighty pissed. And this tenuous connection between them wasn't something that Xander trusted enough to believe a pissed-off master vampire wouldn't hurt him. He noted the approval in Angelus' eyes as his struggles desisted. A small part of him was very happy at the thought of receiving Angelus' approval.

The larger part of him, however, was very angry. If Angelus thought that he was just going to _let_ him control him…well, he obviously didn't know what he was getting into.

"While you're here, you're in _my_ house, under _my _clan," Angelus said, breaking the silence. Xander vaguely remembered that Angelus, Spike, and Drusilla had inherited the mastery of the Order of Aurelius, after the Master and the Anointed One had been killed. "My minions and my Childers obey my commands, and I'll expect no less from you. The consequences for breaking my rules won't be pleasant. Follow my rules, and I'll see to it that you're kept warm, fed, and comfortable, and all of your questions answered."

Xander lay beneath him, neither agreeing nor arguing with him. Angelus carefully kept his face blank. What was required in this phase of their…relationship was for Xander to learn his place, to learn not to fight Angelus. Once Xander's pride allowed him to submit, to trust him completely, only then would the next stage take place. But he needed his boy's complete trust first.

This wasn't going to be easy, but Angelus was rather looking forward to it. Xander's pride would prevent him from giving in too easily, and while Angelus had broken many a human pet by physical tortures, he wanted Xander's incredible loyalty, protectiveness, love, and trust directed at him. Physically breaking Xander would be pleasurable, but would ultimately accomplish nothing.

This new way was going to be long, difficult, and challenging – more than enough to keep him interested. _Very interested_, he amended silently, thinking of the too-brief taste of Xander's blood on his tongue. He had to exercise all of his hard-earned self control (Darla had been a grueling sexual taskmaster) to fight his erection as he remembered the searing pleasure that had brought him to his knees. Even now, Xander's blood flowed freely through his veins, singing to Angelus of its taste, its power.

Beneath him, however, Xander's eyes had darkened stormily, his eyebrows snapping together in a vicious scowl that let Angelus know of the anger boiling beneath the surface.

"Your commands?" Xander snapped. "Who the _hell_ do you think you are?!" he continued, heedless of Angelus' warning growl. "I came here of my own free will, to get some answers, not to sign on to be your little slave, and I can walk out that door anytime I damn well please!" His face set in a mutinous scowl, he gave Angelus a very '_so there_' look.

Angelus gave himself a moment to calm himself, and to remind himself that humans broke under vampiric strength much easier than demons did. Once he knew that his inner demon was calm enough to not beat his insolent boy into submission, he set his face blank and moved off of Xander, stepping casually to the side. No, he didn't want to break his boy by physical means, but Xander did need to learn his place before Angelus could risk setting him loose in vampiric society.

"Please, try."

Xander eyed the flat-faced vampire suspiciously. No way was this going to be _that_ easy. But he was far too pissed-off at this point to even consider the 'consequences' that Angelus had mentioned earlier. He carefully tied the bed sheet around himself like a makeshift toga before stiffening his back to the demon and heading straight for the door.

He made it all of three steps before cold hands slammed down on his waist, hard enough to bruise, before, with a sickening rush of vertigo, he was flying through the air, landing with a hard _whumph_ on the bed, exactly back where he'd started. "God," he gasped, looking up to see Angelus standing there with a cold expression on his face.

"Exactly. I _am_ your god. And I think it's time we explored _why_." With another blur of preternatural speed, Xander found himself underneath Angelus again. The demon was straddling his stomach, holding Xander's hands above his head, his face inches from Xander's own. He took Xander's right hand and guided it to his face.

Xander's fingers were trembling as they traced the angelic features that had for so long been his most hidden desire, his most secret want. His head was awhirl, his emotions going through a state of flux. Whilst they'd been talking back in the Bronze, they had been dancing through motions that some distant, animal part of Xander had understood. Here was a situation where Angelus was the master. And that notion, in particular the part of it where Xander didn't have a problem with said notion, was the most disturbing one of all. What was that story called, the one they'd read in English last year?

_The Most Dangerous Game_.

"_This_ is the façade," Angelus said simply, breaking through Xander's slightly delirious reverie. "This is the mask that I wear when I choose, when I hunt humans down, hunt them down and kill them for food or sport." His voice was cold, matter-of-fact, and Xander shied away from it instinctively. Then the face under his fingers shifted, changed.

The face of the angel disappeared, to be replaced with the face of the demon. A face, Xander was shamed to admit, some part of him found to be as attractive and natural as its angelic counterpart. "This is what I am. A demon, soulless." Xander lay underneath him, transfixed. "Any kindness I show you is for my own goals. I want you. You will be mine; you will be mine mind, body, and soul. You belong to _me_. And here's what you need to face."

"Angel is gone, and he ain't comin' back. So just you remember that it's Angelus who you want, Angelus who you belong to, and it's Angelus who, one day _very_ soon, is gong to take your sweet virgin body until you beg me never to leave you."

Through this speech, Xander had stared, stunned and silent, into the implacable golden predator's eyes of the ancient, powerful creature atop of him. The flushed, red young mortal opened his mouth, perhaps to agree, perhaps to deny it all. He never knew, for in that moment, Angelus bent his magnificent head down…

…and Xander Harris kissed the demon.

The world fell away. There was nothing else that Xander could think to describe the incredible _sensation_ running throughout his body. Angelus' lips were cold and rough against his own, but so _right_, so incredibly _lush_. This was a kiss of ownership, and Angelus plundered Xander's virgin mouth with a skill unlike anything that Xander had ever known, could ever even imagine. Angelus' tongue, rough and cat-like, and yet so amazingly _erotic_, plunged into Xander's willing mouth, sweeping, tasting, teasing Xander's hot tongue to play.

Tentatively at first, Xander licked along the length of Angelus' masterful tongue. The vampire seemed to like this, judging from the growl of pleasure, so Xander gently licked along his lips, shyly seeking entrance. Angelus gave an approving moan, and sucked Xander's tongue into his mouth. Xander explored the cool interior with a rush of excitement; god, this was _Angelus_ he was kissing! His mouth was incredible, cold and hot at the same time. He tasted of leather and pleasure, and a rusty taste that Xander felt a rush of shameful pleasure at the thought that it was blood he was tasting.

Angelus' fearsome fangs seemed to be calling, so, following instinct, Xander lightly trailed his tongue along the ridges and foreign edges of Angelus' fangs. He felt a thrilling sting in his tongue and realized belatedly that he had cut himself on the vicious incisors. A small stream of his blood entered Angelus' mouth.

The vampire froze completely. Not a single inch of him moved, and Xander stopped, nervous that he'd done something wrong. But then he felt something hard as stone against his chest, and he glanced down to see Angelus' prodigious erection straining to be set free. _The size of that_…

Angelus suddenly came back to life, withdrawing from Xander's lips, and licking his own. His expression was fierce, frightening; he suddenly reached down and grabbed a handful of Xander's own straining boner through the silk sheet. Xander froze, flushing a deep, deep scarlet, but Angelus' quiet words cut through his embarrassment.

"Xander, look at me," the demon commanded quietly. Xander found himself obeying without hesitation. He looked into those strange, alien yellow eyes, and he froze. Angelus squeezed his throbbing member once, hard. "Cum for me. Now."

Without conscious thought, Xander exploded. He cried out, caught in the grip of the most powerful orgasm that he had ever experienced. Angelus, watching him, only added to the excitement as he creamed the sheets. Angelus gave him a pleased smile, again revealing his sharp teeth. Quick as a snake, while Xander still lay in shaken wonder, Angelus leaned down and buckled something around Xander's neck.

Xander yelped in shock as Angelus locked the collar closed around Xander's throat. Xander froze as Angelus gave him one last hard, quick kiss.

"I _will_ be your master," Angelus promised him, whispering in his boy's ear. Before Xander could so much as think to formulate a response, Angelus had already left the room, locking the thick door behind him, emphasizing his earlier point. Xander wasn't going anywhere. He left the boy stunned and shaken to his core on the big bed, sheets like bloody satin, and all Xander could do was tremble.

A/N: Okay, so, there you have it, the first kiss! I was all excited. But, anyway, I'll try to update again in a week or so. I really forgot how fun it is to anticipate the reviews. To all of my reviewers that have stuck with me this far, thanks a lot!

Oh, and by the way, someone in one of the reviews once asked me if they could recommend my story on the xangel community on LiveJournal. Let me emphasize that I go there constantly, and I love the stories. I would really appreciate it if someone _would_ rec it for me there, as I don't have an account. Thanks!

Until next time,

PyroPadawan.


	12. XI The Court Of Angelus

A/N: A special bonus for my faithful readers! I'm getting kind of bad at this, but oh, well; it seems to be kind of my shtick at this point – not update for so long and then compromise with an added bonus as well as a new chapter. But none of you seem to be complaining, so, oh well. As I've already said above, I notice – wow, if I'd known I was going to ramble this long, I would've brought some water…

A/N: SPECIAL NOTE: It is very gratifying to check my email and see all kinds of new notices that so-and-so has added my story as a favorite or as an alert or something like that. But I would nearly _kill_ for you people to review me as well. Any good author needs some feedback from the readers in order to critique and renew what has gone on before, so please, please, _please_ review, lest we all have a Yvonne Navarro **meltdown** on (A side note here: I actually really like her books, but the Amazon thing was kind of ridiculous. Come on, it's online reviews at a shopping site! What was she expecting? Einstein inquiries? Anyone?)

A/N: Last one, I promise. In case you can't tell, this is merely the exact same chapter ten that I posted the last time, only with more at the bottom – I was kind of in a rush the last time I posted this, and my long silence only gave me more incentive to offer you guys more of a story – plus, it's better to get a view of how Angelus operates in his day-to-day world in order to get more of an insight to his and Xander's relationship.

So, with all of that out of the way, let's get this party started, bitches!

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter XI_

The Court of Angelus

(Revised and Updated)

Angelus paused outside the door to the room he'd demarcated as his own – well, the room in which Xander now resided. He took a deep, unneeded breath in order to steady himself. The boy, in his surprising burst of innocent passion, had no idea how close he had come to being a meal tonight. It had taken an enormous amount of effort on Angelus' part to restrain himself, especially when his inner demon had been fighting to feed, to fuck, to Claim its Cruor Aduro and damn the consequences. But, no. Leave the idiotic bouts of impulsive behavior to lesser demons.

He had definite, carefully designed plans for his pet. It wouldn't do to screw everything up now and ruin his plans by acting on his base desires. As he had explained to Xander earlier, all actions carried consequences, and he could easily see the ones imminent in this situation. But he also needed to factor in the risks of keeping such a tempting morsel in a factory/home base full of vampires.

As a master, it was his right to expect deference, loyalty, and obedience from the minions. On the one hand, Angelus was the Scourge of Europe, one of the most feared and powerful vampires ever Sired to this world. His own Sire, Darla, had herself nearly the reputation her Childe would earn for himself. She had killed a Slayer once, back in the Revolutionary War, as a tribute to _her_ Sire, the Master (arguably the most feared and revered vampires…well, _ever_). Angelus himself had killed three Slayers, earning respect for his already dreaded name. His three infamous Childers, Drusilla, Spike, and Penn, had only added to his fame.

And on the other hand, he was the newly instated master of the Order of Aurelius. The Order placed emphasis on loyalty, order, power, and control. Minions religiously followed the master's orders, and gladly offered their lives if they failed in whatever tasks he or she had set out for them. Tributes were regularly offered to their master, and sexual advances were not uncommon (as vampires were already a highly sexual race themselves, this wasn't surprising). While Angelus himself had once scoffed at the ritualistic styling created by the Master himself, he had to admit that parts of it had been a relatively good idea.

But Angelus was smart enough to be pragmatic; while Drusilla worshipped the ground that he walked on, Spike hated him with a fiery passion. Darla had been slain by he himself, a mortal sin in the eyes of most vampires, and his more than a century of soul-driven foolishness had done much to diminish his once awesome reputation.

Spike would see Xander as an opportunity to manipulate Angelus, and his minions would be very tempted to break his commands and drain or fuck the sweetly innocent boy locked in the room behind him. This put an irritating time constraint on his plans for the boy – he would need to bend Xander to his will, and soon, so that he could Claim him for his own and remove the impending threats to his pet.

He allowed himself a feral smile, in lieu of the situation. That kiss, the first kiss, had rocked him all the way down to his toes. In all of his years, in all of his vast experience, with men, women, demonic and human, he had never _felt_ such raw, unbridled _enthusiasm_, such pure _passion_. Xander had been so sweetly submissive; so wonderfully eager to please him. He had stolen that kiss, and the feeling behind it, from the soul, from Angel, and it had been so sweet.

He found himself getting hard just picturing that rosy, kiss-swollen mouth wrapped around his cock…he had a feeling that Xander would be good at that…

He shook himself. Now was not the time to lose himself in idle fantasy. For there was another danger to his position here, one that he had been avoiding thinking about. The Slayer. For much as he hated to admit it, the girl did pose an actual threat to him. _This_ girl was different from all the others – she herself was dangerous, a skilled, smart, and unorthodox fighter. But her friends who actually fought _with_ her were what made her truly formidable.

Xander had turned out to be fine tactician, an able researcher, and no real liability in the field, either. Willow, the little redhead, had the potential so deep inside her that he doubted she sensed it, to be a truly powerful witch, and her computer skills had aided the Slayer time and time again. Not to mention the Watcher, Giles, who seemed to have every ounce of mystical information available on file in his brain. Together they had formed a team that no demon in Sunnydale (including he himself and his two Childers, he had to admit with some chagrin) had been able to defeat.

With Xander gone, they were liable to get very dangerous in their desperation to get him back. Staying in the factory was a risk in and of itself, but where in the world was he supposed to find a good place to hide an entire Vampire Court? He sighed, moving away from the door. There was actual business to attend to whilst he brooded about this. Darla had been a better leader than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

As he headed down the stairs toward the main level, a passing minion gave him an idea. He grabbed her arm, struggling to remember her name. The young vampiress gave a startled noise, but instantly bowed her neck in submission to her master. The thought of Xander and the way he had unconsciously done just than when Angelus had buckled the collar around his neck with slightly trembling fingers…it was enough to restore his good mood.

"Jessica, isn't it?" he asked in a burst of remembrance. She looked exceptionally flattered that he had remembered her name.

"Yes, master," she said breathlessly.

"Bring me Lucian," he ordered her, giving her a gentle push. With a wide smile in her master's direction, she nodded and ran off to comply. The brief glance of her body's sweet young tits bouncing as she ran made him want to remember her eagerness to please. He made his way down the stairs, thinking of his next move. Lucian was the only one of the Anointed One's original followers left after Spike's idiotic attack on the school, leaving Buffy with no choice but to dust the other four. Lucian could be counted on to follow his master's instructions.

"Milord?" Lucian asked presently, and Angelus nearly started with surprise as he found himself at the bottom of the staircase. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed getting to his destination. Lucian was a hulking brute, but one of the few who had any real intelligence. He was tall and dark-skinned, and one of the few who bothered to wear his human face in a house full of vampires.

"I have a task for you," Angelus said, drawing himself up regally. Lucian instantly perked up at the thought of pleasing his master. "The boy upstairs will be essential in my plans of defeating the Slayer," he continued. Lucian looked like he had barely been able to hold himself back from snarling at the thought of her. Buffy's defeat of the Master had not made her a popular figure in the underworld. "I'll need one of my most trusted advisors to guard him from the other idiots around us…are you worthy?" he asked, fixing Lucian with an unblinking stare.

"Yes, master!" Lucian said eagerly. Angelus hid a smile. Manipulating loyalty was so easy.

"Now, you understand," Angelus said, suddenly serious, "that there are to be no visitors to him but me. If my own Childers attempt entry, particularly Spike, I authorize you to use whatever means necessary to waylay them until I arrive." Lucian's eyes widened as he nodded, and Angelus could easily understand his amazement. The idea of a master not sharing a lowly human with his Childers was practically unthinkable.

"He's not to go out to do anything but go to the bathroom, and he'll be accompanied at all times. If he's hungry, get another minion to bring you food to give to him. Do this, and I shall see to it that you are elevated above all my other minions. Fail me…" he trailed off meaningfully, his yellow eyes flashing as he growled. Lucian nodded, trembling. While Angelus' reputation might have been diminished thanks to Angel, his possessiveness and delight in punishing incompetence was still feared in the Hellmouth.

"I'll dedicate my life to it, master!" Lucian declared loyally. Angelus gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Good."

He left without a backward glance, assured that his boy had some protection, for the moment, at least. He walked down to the main floor of the factory, where the rest of his Court milled restlessly. Spike and Drusilla were in a corner, given a wide berth by the other vampires. While Spike had been confined to his wheelchair, the other vampires had feared him greatly, for his bad mood had led to many of their deaths. Now they avoided him as a matter of principle.

There were about twenty vampires, other than Angelus and his Childers, who could claim that they were in the Order of Aurelius. Angelus shook his head. He'd have to make some new ones soon, due to Buffy's increased vigor on the hunt after Xander's disappearance. It wouldn't do to have half of his potential vampiric army dusted by the blonde Slayer and her pals.

Angelus paused as he watched his court. He really didn't want to be here; what he wanted was to be back with his boy. But it was the Master's duty to listen to his Court's complaints or reports of their activities. He had to recreate his image as Angelus and not Angel, and that required winning the respect of the other vampires. Jessica, the hot teenaged vamp that he'd ordered earlier that day, looked up at that moment and noticed the presence of the master.

A hush spread throughout the room.

Angelus walked up, his back imperially straight, and sat down on the large, throne-like chair at the head of the room. He beckoned for the first minion to come forward, and sat back to begin. He watched with cold, unblinking eyes as the first of the minions nervously came forward, neck down in deference to his master's whims. This was a particularly ugly one, probably a gangly pimply teenager when he'd been Turned.

"Your name, minion?" Angelus demanded in a bored sort of voice. He probably shouldn't have let his boredom show through so much, but what the hell. He'd never been much of one for ceremony, and his Xander waited upstairs for him to break in. He could have lost himself in imaginings of Xander, but he shook himself and forced himself to concentrate.

"Aaron, master," the minion whimpered. "Or, er, my liege, or—"

"You can shut up now," Angelus said with a lazy smile. The rest of the Court laughed meanly at the young vampire's discomfiture, and Angelus allowed this with the same smile. The minion was getting irritated by now, which was always a good thing; when they were timid, they were boring, and he could use some infusion of excitement now to wake his mind up from the sleep that the proceedings were trying to send it into. "What do you want?" he demanded bluntly.

"It's that _idiot_, David," the minion whined in an annoying try at an evil sounding snarl. "He's sloppy and slow, and he's gonna get the Slayer on our asses – and," he continued, clearly aggravated now, "he's been stealing my kills from me!" Angelus lifted an eyebrow dangerously, but the minions and the little idiot didn't seem to notice this little danger sign. Spike did, though; Angelus could see him drawing Drusilla back a little with him. She didn't take any notice, she just continued dancing in crazy little spirals. "The fat bastard is dumb and he's stealing kills and none of us can get any food anymore—"

This was as far as he got.

"_This_ is what you interrupt my day for?" Angelus hissed. Aaron shrank back into himself, trembling suddenly with fear. And with good reason. "I am your _Master_, you little bitch!" Angelus snarled, leaping to his feet suddenly in a dizzying display of preternatural speed. "A million better things that I could be doing now and you interrupt me to complain that you're too stupid to catch a human from a vampire's vampire?!" he roared, enraged suddenly beyond thinking.

It was insane, really, that he should be this angry over something so small, but all that he could think about was that this pathetic _creature_ was robbing him of time spent with his Cruor Aduro, that his boy should be rolling in his scent and displaying himself for his master's pleasure and all that he had were idiotic minions that couldn't fend for himself.

"Where is this David, then?" he asked in a delicate voice. Aaron jerked away from his Master's voice, but then tremulously pointed out a large black vampire that was from the Master's original Order, surely. Angelus pointed his finger at him. "You. Here. Now." David cast him a surly look, then sauntered over to where they were standing. Angelus instantly saw the use of subverting this creature's loyalty.

"So, you've been taking dominance over my minions, have you?" Angelus purred dangerously. David nodded, a little shaken now. He knew that he couldn't take the legendary Angelus in a fight, and that realization seemed to wilt his peacock's tail a little bit. Good. Too much arrogance was a bad thing. "Good for you," Angelus said genially. David nodded, a little taken aback. Aaron was about to open his mouth when Angelus roared in rage and tore his head off of his neck with his bare hands. He caught the first spattering of blood that spurted out of the severed arteries on his tongue before the useless vampire exploded in a fine cloud of dust. The other minions jerked back, trembling in fear.

"Let's discuss some things, my little _coven_," Angelus spat, annoyed. They all nodded, too scared to disagree. "I am only going to say this once, so that you all know how serious I am. Pay a-FUCKING-ttention!" He roared suddenly, and they all jumped. He continued in a deadly whisper that they all had to lean in to hear. "I am your master. I am not your friend, nor am I your ally in your petty little power games. You want to plot and scheme amongst yourselves for power positions, fine. You want to take out your enemies, fine. But if you annoy me in any way, I will kill you. You attract the Slayer's attention in any way. I will kill you. If you touch my pet, I will torture you and then slowly kill you. And if you annoy me, let me reiterate: I will _KILL YOU!_" he roared. They all leapt back.

"Whose was this _thing_?" he snapped suddenly. No one answered; you could practically see the sweat breaking out on their brows. And slowly, one vampire raised his hand. He was a big, red-headed beast; the demon's blood in him wasn't all that powerful anyway. "You're lucky that I don't want to slaughter my entire army tonight, or you'd be dead too," Angelus said slowly. The vampire paled, a remarkable accomplishment for their kind. "As it is, if I ever hear of you making a vampire within the next month, I will torture you and make you kill your childe."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room. He tried his best to ignore both the stunned stares of the trembling minions or of his Childers following him out of the room. He just continued, but Spike slammed the door shut. Any minion with a teaspoonful of brains wouldn't dare listen in on their conversation now, especially after Angelus' little 'happy hour' explosion.

"Are you off your head, mate?" Spike demanded without preamble. Usually Angelus could appreciate bluntness, but this wasn't usual. He turned around and growled fiercely at Spike, but the younger vampire held his ground. Yes, he _had_ been away for too long; the old Spike would never have messed with Angelus when he was in _this_ bad of a mood. "What the hell was that about?"

"Back off, Spike," Angelus growled dangerously. "I run my court the way that _I_ decide." He turned away, clearly intending for Spike to leave it where it was. Spike, ever the hard-headed idiot, didn't leave it alone.

"Yeah, well, don't take it out on _us_ if you haven't fucked your little human pet, ma—"

One thing about Angelus? He really let you know when you'd gone too far. Within the blink of an eye Spike found himself dangling a foot above the air, his neck caught in a vise-like grip and Angelus' enraged vampiric countenance a mere two inches from his face. Spike gasped as pain erupted in his neck.

"If you take so much as a _step_ toward the boy, I'll kill you myself, Childe or no Childe!" With that he turned and stalked up the stairs. Spike fell to the floor, stunned, shaken, silent. Drusilla drifted into the room in that vague way of hers. She sent a small, reassuring smile to Spike.

"Poor Spike," she cooed. "Daddy has a nasty temper, he has; he won't admit it to himself," she said with a smile. Spike perked up at this.

"Won't admit what, pet?" he demanded. But Drusilla merely shook her head and kept her own counsel. She danced away, sashaying toward their room where she would bed down for the day. Spike knew that he should follow her, but instead he stared up after Angelus, a cold and calculating look on his face.

Angelus took the stairs two at a time. He had no idea what the haste was, but he was getting nervous being away from Xander for so long. Lucien he thought that he could trust, but all he knew was that his boy wasn't going to be safe until he had him in his arms. He wanted to have Xander with him at all times, he wanted—

He stopped himself. He had approached the door. But it wasn't the plan to go in just yet. It wasn't the plan to…he sighed, and pressed his ear to the door. From the confines of within, he could vaguely hear Xander shouting about something to the hapless Lucien. He smiled. Brave, brash boy…He sighed. He wasn't going to go in, at least not until he'd fed later that night. He didn't want to risk anything.

He walked on down the hall towards the minions' quarters. He stalked aggressively into the room, the basest, most demonic aspect of him enjoying the rank smell of their fear. It was enough to block out the thoughts of Xander, at least temporarily, and now he could concentrate on satisfying his own beast. He glanced around, and then noticed his quarry. He beckoned to Jessica. The minion came forward hurriedly, shaking her hair out of her eyes. She bowed her head, displaying her neck, and he growled appreciatively at the smooth porcelain expanse that led down to her full, plump breasts.

He grabbed the back of her neck and led her down the hall, while the other minions discreetly closed the door behind them.

A/N: So, that was the rewrite, and I really enjoy it better. I'll be posting this today, and I swear that within the next two days (more hopefully tomorrow) I'll have the next chapter up and posted, and then, since school has officially started, I'll hopefully swing back into a more regular writing schedule. Thanks so much for the support and for holding on as much as you have. I love you all, even though I don't know you. Still.

PyroPadawan.


	13. XII Freak On A Leash

A/N: You know what was a good show that didn't nearly get its due? Tru Calling. Fantastic show, and then it got cancelled for Point Pleasant. FOX bugs me. A lot. But oh well! Because I'm starting to write out Xander's chapter with Lucian…aren't we thrilled? Really? Applause?

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Well, that sucked. Thanks, guys. You make me feel all warm and tingly inside. Really, though, 70 reviews – so cool! I'm gonna have over 100 reviews before this story is over – can we all pause for a geek moment?

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Jeez, you guys are a dead audience. Or undead, hah! ON WITH THE SHOW!

the Passion of Angels And Demons

_Chapter XII_

Freak on a Leash

_Oh…dear…God…_ Xander thought to himself, still shaking. It had been at least five minutes since Angelus had left the room, and still, all he could do was lay there and shake. Well, there was some trembling, too. And probably some fearful quivers. There were a lot of words in the language that could define this right now. Xander was running through all of them right now. It was something that normally calmed him down; to focus on something and count through it until he could see how it was made. It wasn't working now, though; it was just riling him up even more.

And why the hell not? He was wearing a freaking collar, man! What the fuck?! He giggled a little madly as he shook. It was the least that he could think to do, and at the moment he had the luxury of giving in to some personal hysteria. At the moment, Angelus was…where? Did he care – _should_ he care? Of course he shouldn't. But he did. He really did. He just wasn't sure how he cared. Did he want Angelus to come back into the room? Well, he really could say that he did…but did he want him back to see him, speak to him, or to yell and scream and beat at him?

He took a deep breath, a slow, calming breath. _In…out…in…out…_ it was a trick that Willow had taught him – meditation, she called it. It was one of the most basic things that Wiccans are taught, and ever since she'd started taking lessons with Miss Calendar, she had been spending a couple of minutes at the end of the school day meditating in the library. She had told him and Buffy that it worked wonders on her stress levels. As he sat there, breathing, not thinking, he had to acknowledge that she was right.

He'd finally stopped shaking, and he reached calm, steady fingers up to his neck. The collar was thick, black leather, and obviously new. There were no bends or weaknesses in it. It was a plain thing with a large buckle at the back, to which Angelus had attached a small lock that was just as obviously new and just as obviously impenetrable. There was no way that he was getting this thing off of his neck without a key. He sighed, struggling to remain calm.

Next order of business: clothing. He stood up and surveyed his surroundings. Like there had been before, there was a small table with two chairs up against one wall. There was a stone fireplace, and the mortar from the bricks still smelled pretty fresh. There was a fire burning rather inappropriately cheerily in the fireplace. A big wooden armoire was up against the wall. The huge four poster bed dominated the room, but there was still enough basic room to walk around comfortably. The door was large and metal, and fairly thick, and it was quite clear that it was locked from the outside as well as the inside, in a door that only Angelus could open.

He crossed to the armoire quickly, and thanked Willow's goddess (the only deity he'd seen any real proof of existence) that it wasn't locked. Inside, his jaw dropped. There were two closets – one to the left and one to the right. In the left was obviously Angelus' closet – leather pants, large black dusters. But to the right, in the corner, was Xander's clothes. Taken from _his_ closet! Angelus had been in his house and taking his things! He'd known all along that Xander was going to become his prisoner, willingly or not! And the only possible way that he could have gotten an invitation to Xander's house was…_my parents_.

Oh, shit.

He snatched the first pair of pants he saw and threw them on, and then he threw on a plain white tee that he saw tossed on the floor of Angelus' side. He practically sprinted to the door, go there in three strides, and slammed on the metal door with his hand as hard as he could.

"OW! SUMUVABITCH!"

_Not a good idea_, he thought to himself as he shook out his red hand. Solid metal doors, as it transpired, hurt a lot more to hit than it usually does to bang on a wooden door. Still, he was too mad and frightened and just all in all too emotionally overwhelmed to let it stop him for long. He started hammering on the door as hard as he dared with his good hand, screaming as loud as he could, "ANGELUS! LET ME OUT, YOU GOD DAMNED BASTARD! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

What he hadn't been expecting was to get an answer.

The door abruptly clicked around the lock area and swung open sharply. Xander had to leap back in order to not get creamed in the face with the solid steel torture device. He opened his mouth to let Angelus have it, and then shut it again abruptly. It wasn't Angelus standing there. It was a completely different vampire. And it was an old vampire. How Xander knew this, he wasn't sure, as the vamp was wearing his human façade and there was no way to ascertain his age, but he could just…feel it. Here was an immortal that had seen a century or two. It was the same feeling that he got around Angelus or Spike, or even Drusilla.

The new guy was tall, built along the lines of a bulky basketball star – not freakishly tall, but a little more than six feet. He could probably comfortably stare Angelus in the eye. In life, he'd had green eyes. Now, he looked like a barn owl. It was pretty creepy, really. Danger was exuded in his smooth, liquid-y movements as he smartly shut the door behind him. Xander wasn't nearly in the mood for this silent creature of the night bullshit, as it tended to remind him of Angelus a little _too_ much, and he was in major rant mode right now.

"Who the hell are you?" Xander demanded bluntly. Well, he wasn't dancing around _tact_. Maybe he _had_ been hanging around Cordelia a little too much lately. Jeez. It was Xander-babble even in his own head when he was upset! Or maybe he was just thinking all of these random thoughts to himself to keep away from the irritated growl that was issuing from the Hulk poster child in front of him.

"It's not your place to question me, _human_," the vampire spat.

"I'll question whoever the _hell_ I want," Xander shot back. "Now tell me where the fuck is Angelus!"

Whoever the nameless vampire was, he appeared completely flummoxed by Xander's obvious lack of fear and complete disrespect. Xander could understand the attitude; to a vampire as old as this one, he obviously considered himself at the top of the food chain. He had the arrogance that told Xander that he thought himself truly immortal, and Xander could work with this. But on the downside, such unquestioning arrogance would make the vampire pretty much immune to threats of bringing the Wrath of Buffy down on his head. Xander watched as the vampire quickly regrouped. He drew himself up as tall as he could (which was actually fairly intimidating, Xander had to admit) and said:

"It's not the pet's place to demand things of his master."

"Okay. Now let's take a step back and think about this. _What did you just call me_?" Xander inquired in a deadly polite whisper.

The vampire, clearly enjoying himself now, said in the same pompous voice (and entirely underestimating the things that Xander could do if pissed off and left to his own devices), "I called you the master's pet. You are his human toy and nothing else, and he has charged me with keeping you untouched from the rest of the court." He grinned maliciously. "It's not uncommon for masters to reward their trusted servants with pet's favors…" he continued, raking Xander with a stare that made him sway on the spot with disgust. "I would find it difficult to say 'no' to this offer," he admitted with that same disgusting lecherousness in his tone.

"Oh," Xander said quietly. The vampire smirked and took a step closer to him. Xander hauled off and kicked him in the crotch as hard as he possibly could. For just one second, the vampire made no move. Then, a soft, high-pitched animal keen escaped his lungs as he went paler than a ghost and dropped in his tracks, moaning piteously and curling in on himself as he clutched at his balls desperately. Xander watched this without a change of expression on his face.

He turned and quickly scanned the room, smirking at the stupidity of Angelus when he saw his target. Really, with all the crazed bondage bitch shit that Angelus was suddenly hurling at him, he should have considered how pissed off Xander might have gotten about it all. Wooden chairs? Tsk, tsk. Xander, not a Slayerette for nothing, scurried over to the chairs while his lovely new 'guard' was otherwise incapacitated on the floor, and grabbed one of the wooden chairs up to the table. He picked it up and hurled it at the wall as hard as he could, trusting to the thickness of the door to not bring the rest of the…what had he called it? Court? to come running to see what the hubbub was about. The chair gave a half-hearted shattering, scattering huge chunks everywhere. Xander grabbed the sharpest portion of leg that he could find and, makeshift stake in had, straddled his new 'friend,' the sharp wooden weapon poised over his heart.

The vampire froze in place. Xander's knees were on his arms, so any move that the vamp made to dislodge him could be instantaneously countered with a swift dusting. Any illusions that the vampire had had about his supposed immortality were being dropped, and that was good. Cause Xander was mighty pissed off at the moment, and he probably would have staked the motherfucker for speaking at this point.

"Now, I think that we need to have a little…chat," Xander said conversationally, with his usual cheerful voice. The vampire stopped his little attempts to struggle to nod quickly. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Lucien," the vampire said after a moment, after an apparently internal struggle with himself. Xander had a second to be impressed at the vampire's control, that he still hadn't shifted out of his human countenance, despite the threat being presented to him, before he snapped himself back to business.

"So, Lucien," Xander said. "I think that we've had some misconceptions. Now, I'm willing to move off of you and not stake your ass to dust right now, if you agree to lay off of the 'pet' stuff," Xander continued. It was a gamble, really, but he was banking on that telling statement the big vampire had unwittingly let out about protecting him for Angelus. He'd bet that Angelus wouldn't be happy with his guard if said guard attempted to take a chomp out of Xander's apparently biteable neck.

The vampire seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he nodded after a moment. Xander moved off of him, moving away from him, but still keeping the stake at the ready. It never hurt to be prepared when facing off with a bloodsucking fiend from beyond the grave. Buffy had taught him that one early. The vampire eyed the stake somewhat nervously. It was obvious that he'd thought he'd underestimated Xander, and Xander didn't really need him to know that his fighting prowess didn't really extend that far from what he'd already pulled. Working with Buffy over the last year and a half had given him some basic survival skills, and that was about all that he had.

"Where is Angelus?" Xander demanded, trying to bring some order back into the swirling chaos of his brain. He needed Angelus here, to talk to him, to touch him—

_Where the hell did that come from?_ He needed Angelus there to talk, and that was it. That was all that Xander had signed up for before he entered this weird world where he had bodyguards and Angelus was all mastery and freakishness. All Xander wanted was answers. _That's _all he savagely told his body. He refused the little slutty bastard part of his subconscious that was laughing its ass off at the rest of his brain (_I should never have let Willow take that damned Psychology class_, he thought at random).

"The master is meeting his court," Lucien said unhelpfully. Xander gave him an irritated glare.

"Thanks for clearing that up, Captain Obvious," Xander snapped sarcastically. "What the hell is a court? Where the hell am I?"

Lucien sighed a rather put-upon sigh, and Xander was momentarily taken aback. It was a very Giles-ish sigh, one that he had often in Xander's presence. Xander didn't need to think of Giles and his friends right now, didn't need to think of how he'd turned his back on Buffy's heartache to come with Angelus for the answers that the demon could provide. He didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions.

"The court is the master's followers, his minions and his Childers," Lucien explained waspishly, clearly calling Xander an idiot for not knowing this basic piece of information. Xander, annoyed, lashed out:

"Don't give me that look – I didn't have to know anything about vampire courts out there, I just helped Buffy kill them."

Clearly, he'd been mistaking his first assumption that this vamp wouldn't be scared of the Slayer, because he flinched slightly at the mention of her name. Interesting.

"Master Angelus will be back soon," Lucien said stiffly. Xander had clearly crossed a line by mentioning Buffy's name to him. He turned and stalked out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. Xander stared after him, slowly putting the stake down on the floor. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

A/N: Kind of short, I know, but the interesting bits are, of course, the parts where Xander and Angelus are in the same room as each other. As for the title, it has nothing to do with the song – it's just how I felt when I thought of freaked out Xander in a collar (now picture Nicholas Brendan doing a scene in a collar…sigh…:)

So, until next time, I bid you adieu…and I beg for more reviews. Really. The last update, I got two reviews and about three new people signaling that they'd added it to their favorites and moved on. I don't have that stupid block thing where non-signed-in users can't review, so, seriously, review me, or I shall cry. :(

Pweeze? For cookies?


	14. XIII The Celebration of Ostara

A/N: So sorry that it took me so long to update this fic, but I've been kind of working on a fucked-up frame. School in the last year before you graduate is surprisingly hard. You'd think it'd be a breeze, but _no_. Not to mention the fact that my computer tried to crash. I called up one of my geek friends, and, what-do-you-know, he fixed the shit in about five minutes. Figures. Of course, before he fixed it I lost all of my music (this comprised about half of the memory space on my computer), so of course I'm also busy trying to get it all back. Not surprisingly, my disc drive is pissed at the thought of having to rip all of this music onto the computer. Again.

But oh well. It's time to plunge back into the story, with full steam ahead. In response to one reviewer, that the Phoenix storyline didn't seem to fit, well, you'll just have to wait and see. Because, you see, this is the thirteenth chapter. And if anyone thinks that I'm just going to let that little number slide, well, they're dead wrong. To borrow a tagline from the Harry Potter movies:

_Everything is going to change_.

Distribution: Wow, I haven't included this in a while. But, yeah, I've been searching the web for stories lately, and it would be pretty sweet to see my story listed. Also: **IMPORTANT NOTE**: someone once asked if they would be okay in listing my story on LiveJournal. I've been reading most of the stuff posted on that community (­xangel), so if anyone wants to give me a shout-out over there, then that would be great. Just tell me in a review if you've taken it, where it's going, and make sure that my name is on it.

And also, for you romantics out there, yes, this is where Xander and Angelus meet again. This chapter is planned to be pretty long, so hang in there – it's going to take place over a while, as this chapter is going to set up plot for most of the story. So, with all that aside, I am proud to present:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter XIII_

The Celebration of Ostara

The sun had set slowly that day as winter slowly began to release her sinuous power over the earth, allowing spring to rise as a breath of fresh air. The days were beginning to increase, moving closer and closer to the Vernal Equinox. In a town as _charged_ with otherworldy energy as Sunnydale, the Ostara celebration would signify one of the Days of Power, a Witch's Sabbat, and everyone in the Court of Angelus could feel the tingle of whispered magic in the air.

It was slowly driving Angelus mad.

It had been more than a week since he had last seen his boy, and he'd been absolutely _itching_ to take the brief trip down the stairs from the room that he'd been staying in and reclaim the Master's suite that the minions had made up for him. Hell with the room, he just wanted Xander. Wanted to Claim him, wanted to bite him…oh, hell yes, he wanted to bite him. But the urge to bite him after a hard fuck was even stronger. The brief taste of Xander's suppressed passion had had him hard as a rock every night since.

His Childers had felt it, of course; if he was to be deprived of his sweet boy, then he sure as hell wasn't going to remain celibate. That had been Angel's little trick, thank you _very_ much. _No wonder dear St. Buffy was enough to lose the Soul_, Angelus thought contemptuously. Angel hadn't gotten off in nearly a century, boy or girl, nothing. Angelus had hated that in his little cage in the back of Angel's dull little mind nearly as much as he hated never feeding off of humans. Vampires were by nature very sexual creatures, and to be deprived of his two greatest pleasures because of his lost human soul's suddenly monk-like tendencies had been horrific.

Really, Liam, the man, had been a drunk, whoring idiot. He'd reached his manhood as a drunken layabout who won his peers' respect by fucking three barmaids in one night and then getting off with one of the stable boys. Suddenly getting his soul back after a century of being a vampire, and suddenly he was all with the white hat priest consciousness. Angelus sighed. He knew what he was doing. He was stalling. He'd been doing this for a while; thinking random and useless thoughts about the past in an effort to stop himself from dwelling entirely upon Xander every day of the week.

Sure, he'd fucked Dru, he'd fucked Spike, hell, he'd fucked Jesse until she'd cried in pain and begged him to stop. It didn't matter. He was _still fucking hard_. Even Drusilla, inexhaustible whore that she was, had pleaded with him to stop after the fourth time. He needed something more satisfying. He needed what he'd been lusting after for more than a month now. He needed to be inside Xander, pounding inside his hot, luscious hole and hearing that sweet mouth begging him to stay with him, seeing those searing chocolate eyes glaze over with lust and desire.

Jesse had, as it turned out, some amazing stamina for a minion. He smirked as he remembered how loud she'd screamed when he'd sunk his fangs deep into her full, bouncing breast as she rode him. No doubt she'd been lording his attentions over the other minions for days now, but ever since she'd finally been smart enough to notice that he wasn't begging her back into his bed, such as it was, she'd been a little subdued. Which was good; the last thing that he needed was a pissed off minion making cow eyes at him every second of the day.

Spike, on the other hand…he'd been surly ever since Angelus had returned, and no doubt he was feeling it deeply that not only was Drusilla not mooning over _him_ anymore, he was also no longer Angelus' favorite boy. Sure, he'd enjoyed the sex, Angelus had made sure of that, but it just wasn't _there_ anymore with Spike. He'd been gone so long that his stupid, brash, lovely little William the Bloody had been forced to grow up and take care of himself. He had to admire how long that he'd taken care of Dru as well, but the canny awareness that one needed to become just such a survivor had sucked the appealing innocence and submission out of Spike as well.

Innocence and submission…two traits that his Xander displayed in such great amounts. He seemed to be drawn to that in men, Angelus mused. He smirked. _Well, I ain't getting any deader_, he thought to himself. Enough thinking. He turned to the closet that held a few of his clothes. The closet in the master suite, of course, had most of his clothing, but he had some good things in here. And while he couldn't use a mirror, many mortals would be surprised how good one can get at taking care of one's own appearance without the use of a reflection. He carefully felt through his hair until he was sure that it looked messily ordered. He slipped into a white button up shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, and a pair of black leather pants. He didn't bother with a belt. He smirked. His name wasn't Angelus for nothing; he was a gorgeous sight right now and he knew it. He was pretty much counting on Xander to notice it as well.

He finally, _finally_ headed down the stairs towards his sweet boy's chambers. He paused for a moment to be glad that he had already fed, and fed well tonight: three sweet girls that had been giggling a little drunkenly on their way home from the Bronze. He'd finger fucked the last one of them while he had fed off of her, and the orgasm had spiced up the blood, sure; but it just wasn't the same. He hadn't even had the desire to fuck her to death – all that he had wanted was to go back to Xander. Well, he was going to get what he was after; hell, maybe he'd bide the day with his boy. Now that was a tempting thought.

As he descended, he caught sight of Lucien, his able-bodied guard, and paused for a moment, thinking. He remembered the first day that he'd assigned the minion to guarding his Cruor Aduro, and the fireworks of his court day. He also remembered heading up the stairs to find a clearly annoyed and distinctly ruffled-looking vampire standing outside of Xander's door. He'd frowned.

"What is it, Lucien?" he'd asked quietly, softly enough that Xander wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Nothing, Master," the minion had replied in equally soft, polite tones. It was clear that Angelus wouldn't be able to get anything out of him short of torture, so he'd merely nodded and continued on his way. Now, however, he was curious as to how Xander had been able to get under the extremely composed guard's feathers so very quickly. He shook his head. Did he really need to wonder? His boy had a way of annoying anyone and everyone around him to the point that his souled self had thought often that Gandhi would have been tempted to hit Xander in an effort to shut him up.

Throughout the week, Angelus had been asking daily for reports on Xander. The boy was restless, he was told, and he ate little. He would generally eat and drink what was provided to him, but not nearly as much as he normally did when amongst the Scooby Gang. He consistently asked where Angelus was, and the guard had seemed pleased to report that this was not entirely Xander's wish to speak with him; Xander generally seemed quite fearful that Angelus had forgotten about him, and wanted to be reassured of his presence.

Angelus had smiled to himself when he'd heard of this update, but he'd been worried about the food. No matter, he told himself now. He'd get it all sorted out when he spoke to the boy today. He'd see how Xander acted around him, and then they could talk again. The boy obviously wanted to, he thought with a small smirk.

"Lucien," he said presently. The guard had the grace to force himself not to jump at the sudden sound, but Angelus could see that the vampire had been startled by the noise. One of the benefits of having lived successfully through his first century as a vampire was the fact that he no longer needed to sleep through the entire day. It was a skill that Angelus had achieved gratefully, as it helped many vampires to survive longer.

"Yes, master?" the minion asked respectfully, recovering. Yes, entirely too much time under the wings of the Master and the Anointed One – far too much emphasis on politesse and appearances. Angelus sighed, but he shook off the annoyance. He could smell Xander's damnably sweet scent wafting through the door, could practically _feel_ the amazing amount of body heat that his lovely young body managed to produce…oh yeah, Angelus was looking forward to this meeting.

"It's time," Angelus said confidently. "Unlock the door."

"Yes, sir," Lucien said, quickly complying. "I think that he is awake now, sir," the minion said as he moved on to the second lock. "He seems to be adapting to our schedule fairly well." Angelus raised a brow. This was one of the longest little speeches that he'd ever heard Lucien utter, himself.

"Good," he said now, the smirk fighting its way back onto his face. Lucien moved to the side with a deferential air, letting Angelus walk forward and into the chambers within. He drew in an unneeded breath to compose himself, then strutted forward confidently into the room. He heard the door shut behind him, but stopped as he surveyed the room. The armoire was still where it was, but the bed was untouched. It was clear, he understood in a flash of anger, that Xander had been sleeping on a pile of blankets he'd made for himself on the floor. The table he'd had brought in was fine, but both the chairs were wrecked and in pieces, and the fire was burning strongly. It lit up the room rather cozily, including where Xander was sitting, on the small chest at the foot of the bed, his knees drawn up almost fearfully to his chin, a makeshift stake clutched in his hand.

IIII

Xander had woken up that evening aching as he always did, but he fought off the thought that he'd be much more comfortable on the bed. He hadn't slept on the bed and he didn't intend to. The thought of being in Angelus' bed was far too tempting, and he needed to keep his wits about him. So he fought off the soreness in his back and got up. He grabbed some more of his clothes from the massive closet and threw them on in the bathroom. At least they'd thought to provide him with a shower in there. Vampires might have got off on the whole personal body odor thing, but he was more of clean person by nature. Once he'd showered and gotten dressed, he'd walked out into the room.

There wasn't a lot that he had planned for today, other than to wonder where Angelus was. He sighed. He couldn't get the damn vampire out of his head! It didn't matter that he was angry or scared. All he could think of was the night in the Bronze, when he'd held him so close, or the one kiss that they'd shared…

Nothing much mattered anymore. He had to get out of here, and soon, because he was falling fast. Angelus was fast becoming everything that he'd promised Xander he would be: the most important thing in his life. His food, his fire, his clothes…everything came from Angelus, and Xander was aching to see the demon again, if only to scream and yell and throw things at him. Or to beg him to hold him, to touch him and smell that strangely appealing scent, to—

_Stop. Now_, Xander commanded himself, frightened. Those thoughts weren't some crazy thing sent by Angelus through some wacked-out magic thing. Those were his, and they were bad. Bad to be thinking about vampires like that. Bad to think about a guy like that! Bad to think about Buffy's ex like that! Just bad. Next thing you knew, he'd be thinking Spike was hot. Ugh! He snorted in self-disgust. Look at him, poor little Xander, bouncing around from crush to crush in some hope that someone might just like him back…

He sighed, fighting back tears of frustration. He was going out of his mind. He'd even taken a charred stick from the fireplace and scratched out the days that he'd been here on the wall, prison-style. He wanted to go home, but he didn't. He wanted to see Angelus, but was scared of what would happen when they finally saw each other again. He didn't know what he wanted. He just knew that he was about to explode.

It was then that he heard the voice outside the room. _His_ voice. The voice that Xander had been aching to hear for days, the voice that was haunting his dreams and his waking thoughts. He pressed his ear to the door longingly, but he couldn't hear what was specifically being said. He heard Lucien's voice, though, and smirked a little at that. The guard still wouldn't come near him whenever he ventured into the room with food. But that was probably it, Xander thought with a sigh. Just to check in on the prisoner and go on. He had been stupid to swallow all of Angelus' crap at the Bronze. He was just a toy to use to get to Buffy, and that was it, he was convinced of that now. That or maybe some big joke because he remembered all of the tension between him and Angel.

That was when the lock started turning. Xander froze, the classic deer-in-the-headlights-playing-chicken-on-the-highway pose. What the hell was he going to do? He wasn't ready to see Angelus again! Panicking, he turned this way and that, wringing his hands. The door was opening. He hurled himself toward the bed, grabbing a stick on the way. He was trembling, unsure whether from fear or desire, as the luscious, gorgeous immortal god that was Angelus stalked into the room, his every movement radiating power and…sex.

Walking porn, that's what he was, Xander figured as he drew his knees up like a child and watched the vampire survey the room. Sex on a stick. Every movement he made was erotic in a way that Xander didn't think he'd ever be able to understand or survive. And as Xander watched those unfathomable raven eyes narrow as they surveyed the damaged chairs, he had a sudden disorienting rush of vertigo. It might not have been the best idea to damage the furniture, Xander thought in hindsight.

IIII

Angelus froze. Xander sat in the room like a child who knew that they'd done something naughty, and the boy winced when Angelus' eyes flashed from the damaged chairs to him. His grip on the stake was firm, but he couldn't suppress the trembling in his limbs when Angelus took another step toward him. He saw Xander subconsciously sweep his eyes over his figure, drinking in every detail, and he could feel some of his good humor returning.

"Did the chairs piss you off that much?" Angelus inquired innocently. Xander sighed slightly at the sound of his voice, he noticed with an inward smile. The boy stood, putting some distance between them as he thought about what to say. His hands unconsciously rubbed at the leather collar still fastened around his neck, but he didn't seem too perturbed about the collar's presence anymore.

"I tried to kill hulk-man out there with one of them," Xander said absently, still refusing to meet Angelus' eyes. The vampire nearly sighed with ill-hidden sexual frustration. Did the human in front of him have the slightest idea how erotic his unknown submissive nature was to him? Did he have any idea how very much Angelus wanted him at the moment? "I was thinking of trying the same thing on you," he said after a moment, suddenly surly. _Probably not_, Angelus thought wryly.

"Why?" he asked innocently. That didn't seem to be the right thing to say, as Xander finally found the inner courage to meet his eyes. The boy looked pretty damn mad, too. Angelus was surprised to find himself enjoying the fact that he couldn't find the right buttons to press in Xander all the time. Sometimes, surprises are a good thing for an immortal.

"Why?! Why?!" Xander yelled angrily. He swelled like an angry bullfrog as the rant began. "You put a fucking collar on me! I have a hulking asshole outside my door that decides when I eat, I haven't left this fucking room in a week, and you were _gone_ and I didn't know if you'd just forgotten me or were out murdering my friends or screwing Buffy or—"

He stopped at the fact that Angelus was suddenly _there_ in front of him, his broad, calloused yet artfully shaped hand gently smoothing along Xander's cheek. The look in the vampire's eyes was suddenly unaccountably gentle, and Xander found himself losing all the urge in the world to struggle against this moment, this insane _thing_ that was inexplicably between them and probably always had been.

Angelus found himself studying the lovely, expressive face beneath his hand, soothing the angry lines away with his fingers, loving how Xander leaned into his touch like a dog starving for attention. 'And you were _gone_,' Xander had said. Angelus smiled gently, human face still in place. "Did you miss me, sweeting?" he asked gently. He watched as the indecision was warring on Xander's face, even as the boy never moved away from the big, gentle hand stroking his cheek.

Xander wasn't prepared for this…_kindness_. The last time that Angelus had been here, it had been kind of abrupt and cold, kind of hot and soft, a meeting designed to throw Xander off from everything that he'd been expecting. Truth be told, this was doing worse. Where was all of his righteous anger and indignation now? All that he could do was stare into unconscionably warm cinnamon eyes as a cool, beautiful hand stroked him like he was something that _mattered_. Maybe that was why he couldn't really formulate an answer to…well, _anything_ right now. Not with that unfairly gorgeous angel's face scrutinizing him ever so gently.

Angelus might have been content to stay that way for a while. Kindness and affection, he was realizing quickly, were the key to breaking any and all resistance of Xander's. It had been obvious to the brooding soul that the boy came from an abusive home; whether any of the Scoobies were aware of the fact remained to be seen. Xander had obviously already subconsciously latched on to Angelus as his caretaker, and as long as the gentility of Angelus' gestures remained, Xander was so much putty in the immortal's hands.

"I…" Xander began in a tortured, choked sounding voice.

"Yes?" Angelus asked, never letting the hypnotic stroking stop. Xander was shaking now; with conscious effort, the boy moved to put more distance between him and the demon.

"You were in my house!" Xander yelled suddenly, as if breaking himself out of a trance. Angelus sighed in annoyance; he'd had the boy so close… "You were in my house and you took my clothes—and," he began, faltering suddenly. He looked up at Angelus in fear, and those big doe eyes were suddenly fearful. Angelus had the suddenly irrational urge to pet his boy again, just to get that look out of his eyes. "Are my parents alright?" Xander asked in a muted monotone, not daring to look up at the vampire.

Angelus wanted to moan in sheer frustration. _This_ was what he wanted from Xander so very much! This sheer, unrelenting loyalty, no matter how stupidly placed! The…_love_ that his boy managed to give in such amazing amounts, no matter how he'd been bruised in the past. This was what Angel had had from Xander without even realizing it, the twit, and what Angelus so desperately wanted. No matter how many times his useless, waste of space parents had hurt him, Xander was still more afraid for _them_ than he was for himself, trapped as he was in a vampire's den.

"I didn't kill them," he said quietly. Xander looked up at him, hope dawning in his expression. "I wanted to, though," he growled angrily. Xander looked taken aback at that. His eyes flickered a little wildly around the room, wanting to give voice to the thought in his head, but somehow not being able to.

"Why?"

It should have been a simple enough question, really, but Angelus was finding that it had all sorts of interesting thoughts behind it. They were reaching a turning point here, he could tell; this was an unconscious test of the boy's, and one that Angelus felt strangely zealously determined to pass. No matter what happened after this, one big link in the bridge of Xander's trust was riding entirely on his answer. Angelus was thinking of how to answer it, too; even though it was insane that he, a nearly 250 year old vampire, was agonizing over the answer to the question of a seventeen-year-old boy. No matter how special he was.

"Because they hurt my boy," Angelus finally said simply.

"Oh," Xander said quietly, his mouth staying in that soft O shape, and Angelus could tell that he had just somehow passed the test with flying colors. The question that he wanted to ask the boy was answered by a question, anyway. "I'm your boy?" Xander's voice was soft, as though he was afraid of the answer, but so full of sweet longing that Angelus found that he instinctively knew the answer to this question.

He leaned in and kissed Xander as he had been longing to do for days.

This wasn't the hurried, lustful kiss of the first day, no; this was a rising, full-throated crescendo of passion that took his metaphorical breath away with its power. Something was building between the two of them, something quite unlike anything the world had ever seen, and Angelus had a powerful moment of his Drusilla's prescience that they, and, indeed, the world, were suddenly straddling a knife point.

Xander was riding a wave, a wave of magic that he could not see or hear or taste or touch but nevertheless knew was there. He was surfing the fiery passion of _creation_ itself the way that he'd always yearned to do on Sunnydale's beach in the water. Those strange, over-now kisses with Cordelia had been lustful and passionate; the kiss with Ampata the Incan Mummy Girl had been somehow better, but this…he just seemed to _fit_ into Angelus' embrace in a way that he knew he'd never be able to do with anyone else, as if Angelus was the second part of a puzzle that Xander had been looking for all of his life, unknowingly. Angelus' lips were soft and hard, undeniably masculine, yet somehow so lush that questions of sexual identity just flew straight out the window. He tasted of sex and power, of all the things that Xander could ever dream about and then some. He tasted of iron and copper and rust, a vague scent that Xander could identify as blood and yet somehow still be excited by it.

This kiss rocked the two of them all the way down to their toes, as if they'd been struck by lightning. Angelus was lost to the sweet, innocent taste of Xander, of his enthusiastic lips against his, of the shy tongue that his own, more powerful one was inviting out to play, to explore the way that his own was mapping out Xander's incredible palette. Xander clutched Angelus to him as if he were drowning, and Angelus couldn't stop himself from picking Xander up as easily as if he were a kitten that needed mothering and smothering him in his embrace. They finally pulled apart as Xander remembered that he needed to breathe, and the boy, overcome, buried his face in Angelus' neck, mouthing wordlessly. Angelus was breathing hard in a way he hadn't done in a long, long time, trying to recover from the jolt of passionate power that was still singing in his bloodstream.

"You're _my_ boy," he growled possessively in Xander's ear, and the boy shivered in pleasure at the claiming power in his overprotective demon's voice. "My boy, and mine alone, to have forever." Which, as it turned out, was again the right thing to say. Xander moaned lightly, slumping bonelessly in Angelus' embrace. "I left them alive because it was what you wished, but mark my words – if any dare to lay hand on you again, I'll kill them, no matter who they are." Such simply stated words, but here Angelus was marking out his Claim: Xander was his, no matter what. And the boy seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

Xander, in a strange, disjointed sort of way, felt safer than he ever had. It was this strange surge that went straight through him, all the way to that place inside, the dark place, which was practically purring in pleasure. The scent of Angelus, the way that he fit into the crook in his neck, the way that Angelus held him so protectively, so _possessively_, made him get the warm fuzzies; he felt kind of like he'd been wrapped up in a fleece blanket. Overwhelmed, overtired, emotionally and physically suddenly sapped of energy, Xander was drifting into a pleasant, warm place where strong hands held him and there wasn't anything worth bothering about, not Buffy or Willow or Giles – he just knew that his friends were as safe as they ever were, intuitively. Maybe it was some of Willow's magic, rubbing off on him, or maybe it was that he knew his protector would never really harm them because it would hurt _him_, Xander. That knowledge really did it.

Angelus froze slightly as the first salty-hot tear trickled down Xander's face and into his neck. The boy made no effort to hide this, and Angelus relaxed and indeed smiled into the dark, silky brunet locks of Xander's hair. The emotion wasn't fear, or sadness, it was just pure emotion that Xander had no problem displaying in front of him. Things were coming together in ways that he had never expected or foreseen, and though this may have worried him before, now he felt a pulsing sense of peace, of serenity. Surprisingly, his demon was feeling this as well. Maybe it was his boy's dormant magic, maybe it was the aftereffects of bearing a soul for more than a century, he didn't care at the moment…it just _was_. And he was content with that.

He tilted Xander's head up, staring into those wet, puppy-dog eyes, and smiled slightly. He bent down and licked the tears off of Xander's cheeks, aware of Xander's innocent smile at the slightly animal-like gesture. The boy hesitantly reached out and brushed Angelus' cheek with his hand, and startled the vampire with a request.

"Let me see your face," Xander requested softly. "Your _real_ face."

Angelus froze. This was something he hadn't expected, hadn't counted on…_liking_ so much. But yet again, that warm dollop of something was working its power on him, and he gave in to the pleading eyes of his sweet, warm boy. He felt his demon stretching its power through him, felt his human façade give way, and then Xander's fingers were tentatively exploring frontal lobes and hard ridges. Angelus closed his eyes as the butterfly-kiss fingers worked their homespun magic on him. He panted slightly and rubbed his cheek into the touch. Xander smiled, and in that smile there was a sort of innocence that Angelus felt privileged to see.

"Come, sweet boy," he murmured, offering Xander his hand. There was no hesitation in Xander's eye as he took the demon's proffered hand, and drowsily followed Angelus' lead toward the bed. Angelus turned and gently fingered his collar, and Xander blushed self-consciously at the pleasure he saw in Angelus' face at the sight. Maybe, another time, this would have pissed him off, but he just didn't feel the snark tonight. The sarcasm and the bitterness had left him, for this one night at least, and all he could do was _feel_.

Angelus took Xander's hand and splayed it on his chest. Xander seemed to get the idea and tentatively explored his chest through the silk shirt. His nipples hardened gradually, a slow burning arousal that was somehow better than their rushed session earlier in the week. Xander slowly unbuttoned the shirt, his fingers moving agonizingly slowly, yet Angelus allowed the slow, lazy exploration. He watched with pleasure at Xander's lust-filled gaze as his pale flesh was bared to the teenager's hungry gaze.

Xander could only stare in wonder at the perfectly developed masculine body before him. Men were just beautiful in a way that women _couldn't_ be. Angelus was hard where Buffy was soft, beautiful in unexpected ways where Cordelia was a classical sculpture. His pale skin offset his invitingly wine-dark nipples wonderfully, and Xander was delighted at the small trail of hair that led from the small belly button to that wonderful area beneath the pants, that area that was starting to grow. He determinedly looked up from that at the strangely beautiful face of his demon, the fangs bared in a way that was entirely non-threatening and possessively protective all at the same time. He loved the way the fierce, hawk-yellow eyes became as soft as golden butter as he captured one of Angelus' inviting nipples in his mouth.

Angelus watched in inflamed arousal as Xander switched from nipple to nipple, as if he couldn't figure out which one tasted better. Things with the boy were happening in a natural way, a way that was somehow so pleasurable that he doubted if either of his Childers, if even Darla could have made him feel this way. _Is it like this with every Cruor Aduro?_ he wondered wildly. Xander's hands were hot as fire and as soft as silk as the shirt slowly fell to the floor, unheeded.

Angelus gently held Xander's head away from his chest as he bent and carefully pulled Xander's shirt over his head. His boy was amazingly golden, not developed but invitingly warm. His dark nipples were dusted with a light covering of hair as dark as the lovely little tufts under his boy's arms, and Angelus smiled as he saw the light freckling around the shoulders. Xander was strong and coltish, lovely and glowing in a way that could only be magical in the firelight. Was it the season, the holiday, the pure magic in the way of Ostara that was making him feel like this? He pulled Xander back into a simple hug, and they both let out a slight breath as their chests made contact, cold hardness to warm softness, and Angelus smiled a smile so gentle it would have made Spike hurl insults at a nun, just to get away from it. (Then again, Spike would probably hurl insults at a nun just for shits and giggles.)

He could feel Xander's fingers shaking as he undid the top button to the pants that Angelus was wearing, and he gently held Xander's hands in his own. Xander's eyes met his, and still, no words were spoken between them. There was this, this one perfect moment that needed no speaking, needed nothing but the two of them. Keeping Xander's gaze locked in his, he slowly undid and stepped out of his pants.

Xander moaned soundlessly as Angelus stood, naked and utterly unselfconscious in front of him. He was carved like a statue of a Greek god, his nudity beautiful and natural, his erection huge and demandingly sticking out. Xander, never embarrassed in the locker room himself, could only gape at the sheer size of Angelus' formidable dimensions. He had a sudden desire to bury his face in that spot if only to taste Angelus, to smell that wonderful scent, to bury himself in that wonderfully soft thatch of raven curls that ran freely over the base of Angelus' cock and balls.

Angelus smirked at him slightly before he leaned forward and helped Xander out of his own pants. Xander blushed self-consciously as Angelus' gaze raked over his own erection, drooling in its excitement, at his pale tan lines, which Xander had always hated. He could feel his own inadequacy next to this Adonis, and yet the look on Angelus' face somehow made him feel for the first time as if he were beautiful. Their eyes managed to communicate all of this to each other in moments, and Angelus understood. He closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a kiss more lush and wondrous than before, bare chest to bare chest, hard cock to hard cock.

Xander fell into Angelus' arms as the demon carried him to the warm, inviting bed. Angelus shook his head at him with a sort of exasperated pleasure as he bent to pick up all of the blankets. Xander blushed furiously as Angelus' shapely ass was put on display, and Angelus turned around with a 'like what you see?' sort of leer on his face that was instantly softened as he tucked Xander in with soft blankets.

They never spoke, that night. There was a chorus of moans and of passion as they moved together, finding completion, finding a place in each other that they weren't sure they would ever reach again. But reaching it again didn't matter, because they had gotten there, and they had gotten there _together_. Tomorrow was for talking; the night was for them. The very last thing that Xander remembered from that night was falling asleep in Angelus' warmed, protective arms as the big demon stroked his charge comfortingly in the light of Ostara's gentle fire.

A/N: So…that kicked ass, if I do say so myself. I should know; it took me three and a half days to perfect. Obviously, the title comes from the holiday, one of the three Wiccan ceremonies celebrating Spring and fertility, the Vernal (Spring) Equinox, Ostara. But I would just like to point out that this is running by _my_ timeline; in cannon, this skews into an alternate universe after _Passion_. So I can screw around with time all by myself. I AM GOD!

But not really.

And to answer the inevitable question, no, they didn't really have sex. Not yet. There's too much before the Claiming. And yes, everything has changed between them. But how will it continue? (This, folks, is my lame attempt at telling you to continue reading my story – insert weak smile here).

Yet again – I LOVE REVIEWS! Reviews keep a writer writing, a story posted. Yet again, I got my reviews, and I got some flags that I'd been added as a favorite. Please. Please review me! I'm serious, I'm not above holding out the next chapter until I get up to 90 reviews (okay, I really am, but only because these next chapters get really interesting with the romance and the magic and everything).

So, ten pages down the line, here we are. Excuse my wheezing waffle, in the wise words of Albus Dumbledore, but I'm really friggin' proud of this chapter, and I feel justified in celebrating that I got through it and am now expecting lots of internet fan mail. And also to reiterate: I would love to see this story on more than one website. If you're interested, just drop me a line and tell me where it's going so I can go admire it there as well.

And in case anyone is interested, the music that I was listening to while writing this chapter goes as follows:

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Album_

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Radio Sunnydale_

_Charmed: The Book of Shadows_

Just as a bonus! I love you guys for sticking with me, and I love my new readers as well. I hope you enjoy reading this update as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Blessed be,

PyroPadawan.


	15. XIV The Becoming

A/N: Okay, I am officially an asshole. I am so, _so_ sorry that I haven't updated so long. I'm not even going to go on, because you all have waited so patiently for the next chapter that you just need to keep going. I'm so proud of this piece of shit I just hammered out that I officially dedicate it to my readers, for all of the support, the reads, the reviews.

And speaking of readers, I'm still fishing for reviews here, people! Kudos especially go to RealDarkAngel, a faithful reader who reviews on nearly every chapter, and also to Speedie21, for the same reason – you guys rock!

Distribution – Anywhere and everywhere that you can think of, as long as you tell me where my baby is going before it leaves.

Disclaimer: Why have I included this? Nostalgia for the old days when I thought I needed it in every chapter, perhaps? Who knows? Either way, I would like to say that Joss Whedon is an unparalleled genius – anyone who has seen Buffy or Angel, or read Fray, would instantly agree with me (Fray, which I finally got to read this last weekend after seeing it in a bookstore, kicks major ass for anyone who hasn't read it yet!), and that he owns everything, characters and settings and such, except for my OC's.

So, would everyone like to bow their heads in silence for a moment and pray that someone decides to morph the eighth season comics into a TV season, animated or not? Anyone?

decidedly un-awkward silence ensues as we pray to our various gods

Tear You guys make me feel so nice! So, with all of that out of the way, I am again very proud of this chapter, and am hoping that you enjoy it as well. So, let me end this insanely long Author's Note with a simple drumroll as I present:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter XIV_

The Becoming…

Xander thought that he might just be going a little insane.

It wasn't just one of those errant Xander-babble thoughts that he normally had, it was a clinical observation ('a scientific hypothesis' as Willow would have declared in that _I'm not a geek_ way). Because from the moment that he had awoken, warm and with a sense of well-being that had eluded him for years, snuggled deep into Angelus' arms, things had settled into a routine that he found himself loving. He didn't have any desire whatsoever to leave his cozy little room (no longer a prison), because if he left he would be depriving himself of Angelus, and he was fast finding that that was something he could never, ever force himself to do.

He needed the demon like he needed air, like he needed food. And it was quickly becoming obvious that the vampire knew what was going on in Xander's head…and it was also apparent to Xander, even if it wasn't to Angelus himself, that the vampire enjoyed how much Xander was dependant on him. It was in the little things, like how Angelus was there without fail every time Xander was eating dinner at around four in the morning, and how he would just watch him eat, as if to reassure himself that his boy was eating what his master provided for him. No matter how he liked to stay out to hunt or skulk or do whatever it was vampires did with their spare time, he would be there to watch Xander eat dinner.

Ever since the morning that he'd woken up in the vampire's arms, Angelus had stayed in their room every night, and Xander was fast falling in love with waking up wrapped up in cool vampire snuggles. Little things started to appear in the bedroom, like books that he might actually be interested in, and extra blankets. Xander could even explore the floor of the mansion that his bedroom was located on, as long as it was after the sun had risen and Lucien or Angelus was with him at all times.

This had all been going on for a month, and Xander was indeed going insane. It was the ways that Angelus would just _talk_ to him. He would ask Xander complex strings of questions that Xander could barely keep up with. And they were stupid things, too! What color did Xander like best? What movies did he love to watch? What music did he like? Why? Why did he wear baggy clothes instead of the tight pants Angelus would love to get for him? What did he think of…and on and on and on.

He remembered the night that Angelus had stalked in, with his usual _I'm so sexy that I was designed to make Xander's knees do funny things_ way, and said, "There was a production of Julius Caesar on at the theatre tonight." He'd remarked on this in his abrupt, off-handed way, and Xander had looked up from the book that he'd been reading, trying and failing miserably to pretend that he hadn't been waiting for Angelus to get home for hours. The vampire had given him a small smirk that let Xander know he'd been busted on that front.

"So?" he'd asked, a little defensively.

"I wanted to kill the entire troupe," Angelus had bitched as he tossed his duster off to the side, kicked off his shoes, grabbed Xander without a word and settled him into his lap on the armchair in front of the ever-present fire. Xander hadn't even sighed theatrically like he used to at this treatment; he was used to sitting in Angelus' lap by then (he was really enjoying the extra snuggle time, though he would never admit this even under torture).

"Now, why would you go and say a thing like that?" Xander had inquired, his voice slightly muffled as he snuggled in close to Angelus' chest and inhaled that wondrous, creature-of-the-night and pure sex scent that was his vampire. There was a tang of blood in the shirt, though Xander had refused to think about that. He supposed that someday he might have to come to terms with the fact that Angelus killed every night, but right now, he was getting pretty good at repressing.

"They ruined it," Angelus had said flatly as he wrapped an arm around Xander's body and pulled him close, growling possessively as Xander snugged his face into that lovely spot on his neck where the boy's head seemed to fit in to perfection.

"There wasn't much to ruin, I think," Xander muttered. Of course, vampiric hearing being what it was, Angelus had heard him. This had led to an intense discussion of why Xander did and didn't like plays that he read in English, why he hated school so much, and what teenagers did in school nowadays as opposed to Angelus' youth as a human where you were lucky if your parents knew enough to home school you.

Xander loved talk like this, as all of the little glimpses he was allowed into Angelus' past could lead you to understand why Angelus was the way that he was. Though those times were fleeting in themselves. Xander had learned to enjoy what he got and ignore the rest. Tonight was such a night; Xander had gotten sick of getting drilled on why he thought it would be wrong to kill off Cordelia, and had turned around and snapped "I'm tired of all of these questions! Why don't you let me ask something about _you_ for three hours and see how much _you_ like it!"

"Fire away," Angelus responded calmly, and Xander, flummoxed, sat down on the bed.

"Tell me about when you and Darla and Spike and everyone were together," he whispered. Angelus sighed, sitting down in his customary armchair. It was nearly four in the morning at this point, and Xander was beginning to think that Angelus wouldn't answer him; it was nearly their conjoined bedtime, anyway.

"We were family," the vampire said quietly. He wasn't looking at Xander, and though his raven-black eyes reflected the fire, he wasn't really staring into its depths; he was remembering a long time ago, more than a century before. "There was me and Darla, at first. She taught me everything…well, she tried. She was like a goddess to me; everything that I was hinged on my Sire—but it's like that for all Childers." Though there wasn't much emotion in his voice as he recounted this, Xander had to fight down a pang of wild and irrational jealousy at the thought of how close Angelus had been to his Sire.

"Then we found Drusilla, and she became our daughter. Dru and Darla didn't really get along at first, because she thought Dru came between us—"

"Not to mention she's a complete psycho," Xander muttered, and Angelus jumped, as if startled that Xander was still there. He gave Xander a guarded smile, and in a flash of intuition, Xander realized how much he was baring for him. Angelus was utterly uncomfortable sharing things about himself, but here he was, telling everything to him, as if he were someone that mattered…Xander slowly gave Angelus a small smile, and the big vampire relaxed slightly. He beckoned imperiously, reassuring himself of his mastery, and Xander conceded the victory as he positioned himself back on Angelus' lap.

"Yes, there was that," Angelus murmured softly. Somehow, the intimate whisper that the vampire used now that they were so close was sexier than anything, despite the subject matter of the conversation. "But after we were settled, Dru found little William…" he trailed off again. Xander listened carefully. "But Dru was so addled that she couldn't have possibly taken care of her own Childe, and so I was the daddy of the family…Me and Darla and Spike and Dru…"

"Do you miss it?" Xander asked softly. Angelus sighed slightly, as if wishing that they could change the subject. Xander had a feeling that they were going to change the subject, that the vampire was uncomfortable with sharing about himself, but he didn't care. The fact that Angelus would share even this much with him was somehow precious.

"Sometimes," he said pensively. "But I can't help but be proud of how Spike and Dru turned out without me. I wouldn't have believed it possible that they would be able to care for themselves, but they've done wonderfully," Angelus said with a small smirk. Xander gave him an annoyed look.

"Wonderful, sure, if you count death by hickie a nice way to go," Xander muttered sarcastically. Of course, Angelus heard him. He went oddly still, and Xander peered up at him questioningly. Xander heard the distinct sound of Angelus changing, and suddenly he was on the floor, his back protesting the hard surface as the wind went out of him. Angelus was on top of him, his savage, demonic visage to the fore, vicious yellow eyes staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He opened his mouth, revealing the vicious, jagged fangs, and roared like a lion. Xander squirmed to get away, instinctively bucking to get the predator off of him.

"This is what we are, boyo," Angelus growled, all traces of humanity suddenly gone from his voice. He sounded harsh, cold, his words rendered sibilant as they slid through the fangs. Xander felt the humiliating sting of tears sliding down his face as his tear ducts went into overdrive. He could feel the heat of Angelus' anger, and somehow he was more ashamed of himself for making Angelus angry than he was angry at the overreaction. "This is what _I_ am," the vampire snarled, his face inches away from Xander's own. The harsh, gunmetal smell of blood was really strong now, and Xander felt himself staring pleadingly up at the demon. He could feel things inside of himself shifting again, and he didn't recognize this part of himself. All he could think was Angelus, and why his…was master even the right word? For something this…deep?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He truly didn't know what else to say.

"Aye, and you should be," Angelus said coldly. "I'll not have you disrespecting my house, ever."

Angelus, for his part, was in a cold fury brought on by frustration, anger…emotions that he couldn't describe and didn't even want to. Ostara. It had all started on Ostara; he was getting dangerously involved in this. What had started out as a power play had turned into an obsession that was starting to spiral out of control. Xander lay underneath him without a clue of his human frailty.

His Cruor Aduro, his boy, his Xander…Angelus leaned down and rubbed his face into the crook of Xander's delectable neck, that wondrous curve where he fit in just right. His fangs itched for a taste, but he kept them away from the skin and from the pulse that was pumping wildly underneath it. It wasn't time yet…but how long was he supposed to wait? he wondered wildly as he desperately ground his raging hard-on into Xander's hip. His boy lay so submissive underneath him, so sweet, his neck bared for his master…

Angelus gave a howl of frustration and threw himself to his feet, away from a very bewildered Xander who still lay on the floor. The confusion was giving way to anger, however; Xander was under a storm of conflicting and confusing emotions and all that he knew he wanted was the psychotic vampire who was now pounding his fists into the metal walls of the bedroom. He clambered to his feet, his fists clenched.

"What the hell?!" he yelled. Angelus looked up from what he was doing to regard a beguilingly flushed and tousle-haired Xander, his fists clenched, his chocolate-doe eyes swirling with too many repressed emotions to count. "Just—just what the hell!" the youth snapped again, then turned away to leave a very aroused, frustrated, and confused master vampire staring at his pet's back as Xander threw himself into the bed and resolutely turned his back to Angelus.

"What the hell?" Angelus asked stupidly. Xander snorted rudely, not even bothering to turn to look at him. Now Angelus was getting angry, too, and he stalked over to the boy fuming on his bed. Xander turned over to the other side and went on with ignoring him. The vampire growled angrily, grabbed his boy, and picked him up by the scruff of his neck like a mother cat with a misbehaving kitten.

"Let go of me!" Xander yelled indignantly.

"No," Angelus said smugly. Looking back, Xander probably could have thought of many more intelligent responses to an angry master vampire holding him a foot off of the floor, but he was too stressed out to really consider them at the moment. Indeed, all he could really think of was wiping that stupid smirk off of Angelus' stupidly gorgeous face. So he punched him. Hard. Right in the nose.

In the plus column, it worked: the smirk vanished and he dropped Xander to the ground. In fact, to add another plus, it was actually really funny to watch him grab his nose and grunt like a pig in surprise. Of course, the pluses instantly vanished as he smacked Xander in the head in retaliation. It was what a vamp would call a love smack; it'd have made Spike laugh and kill whoever did it to him. Xander, human being that he was, went flying and landed on the bed again. "Ow!" he howled angrily.

"Don't hit me," Angelus growled angrily. Xander opted not to hit him; instead he jumped up off of the bed with a yell and had the distinct pleasure of watching a stunned look flash across Angelus' face before Xander's flying shoulder collided with his chest and sent him falling to the floor. In a second Xander was pinned on the floor again, with a very irate and game-faced vampire poised above him, yellow eyes glaring angrily as tiger-like growls issued from between tightly-clenched fangs.

"Have ye been driven _mad_, boy?!" Angelus snarled viciously.

"So what if I _have_?!" Xander snarled back, just as furiously. He wasn't backing down, not this time. "It'd be _your_ damn fault!" he continued, heedless of the consequences. "I'm tired! I'm sick and fucking tired of this cryptic bullshit – I am physically and emotionally exhausted _all the fucking time_! And I still can't get you out of my god damned head!" He finished off on a yell, and, to his horror, started crying.

Angelus, for his part, was crouched atop his human, staring down at him in complete bewilderment. The demon Angelus, even during the years of curse-driven foolishness, had more than two centuries of living under his belt, and was rather complacently jaded. He knew what Xander was, inside, of course, but at the same time the boy was still almost completely human at the moment. And still, every thing he did, every answer to every question that a frustrated and confused Angelus would hurl at him, threw Angelus completely. He couldn't figure the boy out…and he was becoming addicted to him. And though he knew that Xander was becoming just as entangled in this dangerous web as he was, it did nothing to lighten his mood.

Because the problem for both of them was that demons didn't love like humans did. And the passion between angel and demon that the boy was igniting inside of them both was liable to destroy them both. Hopelessly confused, aroused, a million other emotions that he hadn't felt for a century overwhelming him, the demon bent and claimed Xander's trembling lips in a bruising kiss.

Xander hadn't been just blowing air when he'd yelled at the demon. He was going absolutely insane. Everything he thought he knew had been turned upside down and torn completely to shreds in the last month. Somehow, through everything, Angelus had become everything that he had promised to become when he had first spoken to him in this, their bedroom. He was everything that Xander was, everything that Xander knew. Angelus completely controlled him in ways that Xander couldn't even understand.

And he wanted it, in ways he didn't _want_ to understand. Angelus was more than a…_master_ to him. He was…was…Xander couldn't even put what he was feeling into words in his own thoughts. With the parents he'd grown up with, there hadn't been anyone. Giles had gone a long way towards filling that fatherly void in his life, but Angelus was so much _more_. He cared for him – he fed him and clothed him and controlled everything in his life to a point where Xander could finally feel _free_. If this was what people who wanted weird sex masters got out of life, he envied them.

Because he knew that no matter what he felt, Angelus couldn't actually _love_ him. Xander was something to him, a passion, an obsession, a tool, but he wasn't…And he also knew that he didn't care. Every particle of him wanted Angelus, and not just sexually (but _whoo boy_, that was there (but only because the damn vampire was so fucking physically_ perfect_)), Angelus was what he needed to survive. He'd given in. And he hadn't even known he was fighting.

But then when the demon kissed him, there was something there. Something…unexpected. The…_spark_ that Xander always felt with Angelus was suddenly felt by the demon too; and that spark burst into a wild, world-consuming flame as soon as their lips touched, boy's to demon's.

Xander moaned in utter pleasure as the cool lips suddenly ground into his with force enough to bruise, to hurt, but that just made Xander wrap his arms and legs around the vampire and press himself even more desperately against him. Angelus made an approving groan in the back of his throat and plunged his thick tongue into Xander's hot mouth, moaning at the remembered taste, at the absolute submission in Xander's posture. He felt Xander in ways that he had never felt anyone else – the kiss was better than the best, it was enough to kill him with its power.

He could practically _feel_ Xander in his very mind, binding them together in a way that even Darla hadn't managed with the mighty Angelus. When Xander's tongue accidentally nicked a fang and let loose some blood into the demon's mouth, he froze – but he couldn't stop. The blood sizzled through him like acid that had him hitting the ceiling and in moments bursting through it to the stars. Xander was in him, all around him, burning like a star, like a fiery raptor that had captured him and somehow the lines were blurring and AngeluswasXanderandXanderwasAngelus until there was no distinction no distinction no _nothing_ but the two of them and it was perfect and they were perfect and—

Xander felt the breath rush out of him as he hit the wall above the bed and landed on the bed. His heart was rushing like a freight train at high noon and his head was spinning. He could feel a few droplets of blood drip out of his mouth along his chin, but he ignored them as he stared at Angelus, desperately trying to make sense of what the hell had happened the last moment. If he had hoped for answers from the vampire, however, he had a feeling he'd be disappointed.

Angelus was kneeling there, staring at Xander wildly. He looked like a wild beast. There was no comprehension in his eyes, his fangs dripping with blood (Xander's blood, the boy realized giddily), trembling from head to foot. He could see Angelus' massive erection straining at the tight leather pants the vampire always wore, and he felt himself trembling suddenly to touch him. Not to touch Angelus would bring agony – he desperately shook himself in an attempt to stop himself from himself.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!" Angelus screamed suddenly. Xander lay trembling on the bed at the rage and confusion and want and desire and a million other emotions he could feel like a fucking _empath_ emanating from the vampire. The demon snarled like a wild thing, stalked toward the bed, grabbed the boy, kissed him once more, brutally, and snarled "I _am_ your master!" With that, he threw Xander back on the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the stone walls shake a little dust off of them. The lock turned, and Xander burst into tears of confusion and rage and fear and want and everything until he huddled under the covers like a little boy who'd just discovered the monsters in the closet.

Angelus stormed out of the chamber before he killed the boy, or himself, or both of them or…he just didn't know anything anymore. Lucien pulled himself up and to attention as soon as his master strode out of the chamber, but visibly cringed when Angelus slammed the door as hard as he did. The older vampire rounded on him, and he tried to not show his fear. He could tell he was failing miserably, and so was confused when the infamously cruel Angelus didn't even comment on it.

There was a wild look in the master vampire's eyes, something that told Lucien not to say a word. The Master had gotten into…_moods_ before, but Angelus looked completely unhinged at the moment. Lucien caught himself actually feeling almost _sorry_ for the humans tonight during his master's hunt. He yelped in pain when one of the only two keys to the chamber was slammed into his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

"_He doesn't go _out_, and _NO ONE_ goes_ in," Angelus snarled. "He's _MINE_!" he added, though who he was attempting to convince went completely over Lucien's head. Instead, the proud minion cowered underneath Angelus' rage and nodded silently, shamelessly kowtowing. There was a difference between pride and stupidity, and, frankly, Lucien wanted to live. So, bearing that in mind, he went on to ask his next question. He contemplated shifting to his human guise, but decided against it.

"M-master?" he asked as the other demon was turning to leave, hating the squeak in his voice.

"_What_?" Angelus hissed through his fearsome fangs.

"What if he wants food?" Lucien soldiered on. "They have to eat, and you told me to make sure no harm comes to him…" he trailed off. Either way he looked at this, he was fucked. In the mood the master was in, the older demon was completely capable of tearing his head from his shoulders with his bare hands. If he came off of this mood and found out that Lucien had followed his angry orders and allowed no food, he would be enraged at the 'neglect' of his pet and beat his servant. The last minion that had dared disrespect Angelus was hanging in the basement. After three days of nonstop torture, with no pauses for food or rest, the master vampire had traipsed out of the basement in a jovial mood, ignoring the screams of near-insanity-driven-pain, covered head to toe in gore, swinging a whip behind him. The minion was still hanging down there, allowed to be fed enough to keep him alive, barely. That was three months ago.

Repressing a shudder at the thought, Lucien resolutely stood his ground. Thankfully, the master's rage didn't seem focused on _him_ at the moment. "Send him some fuckin' food," he growled irritably, and stormed down the stairs. Lucien sighed in relief, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Angelus stalked through the main floor of the factory, ignoring the minions that were busy moving away from him. He grabbed his leather duster from a hook near the door, threw it on, and kept moving. He ignored the sounds behind him until he felt a small hand boldly grab his arm. He whirled, moving to attack, until he noticed that it wasn't a threat, only Jesse, that hot redhead that he'd fucked some time ago. He rolled his eyes in annoyance when he noticed the utterly star-struck look in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"What?" he sighed. She didn't seem to notice the irritation in his voice. "My lord," she murmured, her soft tits pressed up to his chest. "I couldn't help but notice how…tense you seem," she said. She was wearing her human face, and as she looked up at him he could smell the desire on her.

"Tense?" he asked with a curt laugh. Tense didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling; but if this minion thought she could help… He smiled at her coldly, then ripped her shirt off without a warning. He brought his mouth down and bit hard on her left breast; she cried out in agony and ecstasy as he drank her. He was still so fucking hard from the kiss with Xander, still so confused and angry and…and so much of _everything_. He didn't know what was happening to him, but there were ways to vent. This was one.

He lifted his mouth from her breast and lifted her short leather skirt. He snorted when he saw that she wasn't wearing any panties, and sank one thick finger deep inside her – he wasn't at all surprised to find her sopping wet and more than ready for him. She shamelessly moaned in pleasure, riding his large hand in front of all of the minions like the senseless whore that she was. He added another finger, loving the howls of ecstasy that it wrung from her. He opened his pants and didn't even bother to pull them down as he lifted her up and rammed her down on his rock-hard cock.

She screamed her pleasure, not even bothering to let him lift her up. She rode him hard, as much for her pleasure as for his. He moaned loudly, slamming her up against the wall hard enough for some of the metal to draw blood from her back. He didn't care how rough he was being, and she clearly didn't either. In his mind, the hot cavern he was buried in was Xander's, and he moaned again and sank his fangs into her neck, as he so longed to do in his boy's…it was enough. He came with a roar that reverberated through his fangs and into her. She clenched around his cock and he could feel her orgasm shaking her from head to toe. He pulled out, leaving her to slump on weak knees in front of him. He tucked himself back in, zipped back up, and turned to leave without a word.

"Pretty rough on the slag, weren't you mate?" Spike asked casually, rolling out from the shadows. Drusilla wasn't anywhere in sight, and Angelus sighed as he turned to face his Childe. He was aching to make a really foul kill at the moment, and all of the interruptions weren't helping his mood. Surprisingly, fucking the minion hadn't even begun to sate the ache that was resting deep inside of him. Sure, it had helped the blue balls a little, but whatever the hell it was that Xander was doing to him, it was staying with him, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

"What do you want, Spike?" he snarled derisively. The younger vampire smirked up at him without fear, and that only made Angelus angrier. There was a time when all three of his Childers had stared up at him with fear and want and respect all at once. But of course, _Angel_ had screwed that all to hell. Spike hated him and wasn't even afraid of vocalizing it, half-paralyzed as he was. Dru was even more insane than before, and though she still loved him, wasn't afraid of defying him anymore. Darla was dead – the Soul had forced him to stake his own _Sire_, for no reason: not for power or for advancement, but as a gift to the Slayer. Such a perversion was unknown to his kind. Penn, for all he knew, wasn't even in the States anymore. He turned to face his Childe, not allowing his rage to fully show. He _would_ put the fear of Angelus back into Spike, even if he had to beat him every day to get it there. He just didn't have the patience for it at the moment.

"I'm just saying, seeing as how you have such a lovely trollop there for you," Spike said with a casual sneer in the minion's direction, "it looks almost as if the boy up there's got the best of you and has left the mighty Angelus with a royal set of blue balls – if your knackers are still there." Every single word out of his mouth rang with derision. Every minion in the hall gasped at Spike's audacity, then went still when their master moved. Angelus was nearly 250 years old, one of the older vampires in the world. He was a master in every sense, and now he showed his power.

The only reason the minions knew that Angelus had moved was that he was no longer in the same position that he had been in a moment ago. Within a second he was all the way across the factory floor and had his Childe out of his chair and dangling by the throat like a cat holding a limp rat. Spike had the sense to realize he might have gone a tad far with his taunting and shut up. His Sire pulled him down to see his fangs, and roared in his face, blowing his hair back. "If I _ever_ hear ye disrespectin' me like that again in front of the minions, I'll _kill_ ye, Childe or no!" he roared, shaking Spike without a care for the pain that shot through his ruined spine. "The boy is _mine_!" he roared, shaking Spike for emphasis.

"Okay, mate! No one's trying to take him from you—" Spike began desperately, before Angelus flung him the entire length of the hall to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. Angelus turned on his heel and stormed out of the factory, slamming the door hard enough to shake the left side off of its hinges. No one said a word, and no one moved to help the shaken vampire staring after his Sire. Something was wrong with Angelus, Spike knew. And not the usual psychotic thing. No, this was something dangerous. He'd never seen Angelus work himself up like that before. Spike had a sense of something moving, things happening that maybe shouldn't happen. It spelled a whole lot of trouble before it was over – maybe more trouble than it was worth.

But as Spike wondered how he might have to stop certain things, no one noticed Jesse. Her red hair in a heap, her master's drying seed inside of her, blood running from her chest and her back and her neck, she stared after her love desperately. But Angelus was gone. She glared up the stairs, where everyone knew the master was keeping the…_human_. Something needed to be done. Yes, something needed to be done.

Angelus sighed as he let the body fall, his fangs slipping out of the gaping wound at the man's neck. The kill hadn't done a thing for him, not like it usually did. With the memory of Xander's blood in his mouth, it just made all other blood lose its…spice. He looked around, surveying his work with a pang of annoyance. The small house had seemed a good pick; it had been the work of moments to seduce the teenage girl in the back to let him in. She'd died fast, as had her little brother. The mother had fought hysterically to save the baby crying in the crib – he'd snapped her arms out of her sockets before drinking her dry. The father looked about as sane as Drusilla when Angelus had rounded on him.

He looked down at the man's corpse with a vague sense of disgust. There hadn't been anything _there_ during the hunt. The family's terror had spiced the air as it usually did, but it hadn't thrilled his senses the way it used to. Instead, all he could think of was the smell of Xander. When he'd held the boy in his arms and drained him, the blood had turned to ash in his mouth as he thought of Xander and the boy's blood and his passion filling him. Shaken, the demon sat down heavily on the sofa. There was nothing for it. Xander had filled him to the extent of all else.

And it was perhaps his preoccupation with his boy that inspired such carelessness that allowed the Slayer's foot to connect with his skull, sending him flying more than ten feet across the room and slamming into the mirror on the wall, shattering it and spilling blood into his eyes. He howled in pain. His souled self had sparred with the Slayer many a time, and he never remembered such power coiled in the strike. It seemed his obsession with the boy had spawned another, less desirable reaction: Buffy was finally striking at him to kill. Maybe it was the power of the kick that had alerted him, or maybe it was the small, wickedly narrow stake that she held in her hand the offered much less room to block than her usual, wider variations. Or perhaps it was the murderous rage in her eyes as she came at him with a hunter's scream that would have done Darla proud.

Her fist connected with his chin, and his head snapped up, leaving her free to slam a sledgehammer punch into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping in pain, and she dropped her elbow down onto his back. He dropped, but her knee was already lifted, slamming into his chest. Within the space of four seconds, he'd dropped to his back. Her foot flashed to his throat and stomped hard; he coughed in pain as her foot slammed into his chest. She crouched, grabbed his head, and slammed it hard into the floor. She punched him in each side of the face, drawing even more blood, and then the stake hovered over his heart. He froze. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"Where. Is. Xander?" she asked, enunciating each word carefully. There were no emotions in her eyes as her deceptively small hand curled tightly around his throat.

"Fuck you, Slayer," he gasped.

"No thanks. Been there, done that. Where is he?" she snapped. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, surprised. Buffy had proved very easy to sidestep lately; after their little encounter in Angel's old apartment, she'd been torturing herself for letting Angel 'die,' and every time they had met, all he'd had to do was mention it to keep her off her game. Now, however, she'd learned to shut that off. Now, she was ready to fight. And win.

He threw a foot up and slammed it into her head. She grunted in pain and surprise and loosened her grip on his throat. He used that to grab her wrist and twist until she dropped the stake; he kicked it out of the way and slammed his fist into her eye, effectively dislodging her off of him. Or, that was the plan; instead, she grabbed his fist and decked him in the ear, which would have popped his ear drum had he been human. As it was, it hurt like hell. He grabbed his ear reflexively and she dove for the stake, but he lashed out with his foot and caught her in her ribs. She gasped and landed wrong, banging her knee.

He leapt to his feet and charged, slamming into her like a professional wrestler, knocking her into the wall. She responded by going for a bitch move that he didn't expect and slammed her heeled shoe into his foot, moving him away so she could ram her elbow into the side of his face. He ducked her next punch and threw a haymaker of his own, throwing her towards a window. It broke and suddenly her blood scented the air. He smelled the spice of Slayer blood and howled, diving towards her with murder in his eyes. She threw a roundhouse kick that knocked him off course and dived toward him.

But it was enough – her wounded knee, her hurt wrist. The blood only added the last thing against her. Angelus was running off of too much rage, confusion, bloodlust. Everything that he felt for Xander, all the violence of his passion, was pouring into his fight with the Slayer. And Buffy was losing. He pounded into her again and again, rolling until he was on top and slamming fists into her again and again. She screamed in pain, her self-control finally breaking, as her nose gushed blood. It only served to inflame him more – until.

Until.

Xander's face showed up in his mind. This wasn't his memory, it was Angel's, but still, it was there. The sunlight from the library windows flowed down, as if the Sun God Himself smiled down on Buffy and her Slayerettes. She was laughing at something that Xander said, and he smiled as he looked at her and Willow. Three teenagers, fighting a war that they could never win, and yet here they found time to smile: with each other. His boy's face was lit up with such happiness as he grinned at the two that were like sisters to him, his sable hair so soft and luxurious, his puppy dog eyes so happy and his smile so bright…

Angelus lowered his fist. He couldn't kill the Slayer. She coughed up blood from the blow to her ribs, but she'd be all right. He stood and left without a backwards glance. He felt her eyes on him for a long time, but he couldn't. He needed to see Xander. Now.

He disappeared into the night, leaving a very battered, very bloody, very alive Slayer staring after him.

Xander had stopped crying. It was a nice thing that he'd stopped, because he didn't fancy being caught sobbing like a ten-year-old by Lucien. Though they'd never be friends, they'd at least settled a sort of truce from the constant insults. Judging by the black scowl on the vampire's face as he stalked into the room with a McDonald's bag, he looked pissed. Not someone that Xander would want to mess with. So, given his mood and his big fight with Angelus, Xander had to screw with him.

"You look pissed," he commented. He had been sitting on the bed, thinking. And waiting. He couldn't fool himself much on that front; he was waiting for Angelus to come back. He wanted to see the vampire again. He wanted more than to see the vampire, he wanted to touch, to taste…so much. But instead he had Lucien, and the fact that he was so completely confused by his entire life right now that he couldn't do much more than lash out.

"Shut up," Lucien said flatly. He put the bag down on the table and turned to walk out. He stopped dead. Turned. And looked at the pillow that Xander had thrown at him. The boy was sitting on the bed with a shit-eating grin and a 'who, me?' look in his eyes. "Did you just hit me with a _pillow_?" the 154 year old vampire asked incredulously.

"Yup," Xander said cheerfully.

"Why?" was all that Lucien could think to ask.

"Because I'm bored, tired, pissed off…and, as my _master_ is gone, I only have you to talk to," Xander replied pensively. "I don't have a lot of friends here, in case you haven't noticed."

"You want to…_talk_ to me?" Lucien asked, nonplussed.

"Yes, brain-dead. Though not about death and stuff. Cause that's boring. And gross," said Xander. "I mean, you're, what, over a century?" Lucien nodded, unable to think of anything to say. "Didn't _anything_ interesting happen to you for that span? Y'know, aside from the heaping amount of death?"

Lucien was beginning to see why his master liked the boy. Here he was, a prisoner in his master's house, and yet he strikes up a conversation with his jailer because he was bored. He sighed slightly. "A couple of wars. And hippies. They were strange people," he commented guardedly.

"Can vampires smoke pot?" Xander asked interestedly.

"No – we haven't any breath, so we can't inhale anything," Lucien replied. Xander nodded. "Doesn't the Slayer's Watcher tell you anything of our breed?" he asked curiously. After all, the boy was a helper of the Vampire Slayer. Any information at all would be of interest. To everyone, not just to him, he told himself firmly.

"Well, that's more Buffy's territory than mine. I help with the research and the fighting," the boy said, though he seemed to not want to discuss his role much. "Willow is a witch now; she's getting really strong," he added proudly. "And Giles is all smart and knows a lot, and Oz is a werewolf, so he's got some mojo to add, and Cordelia…well, she's just a bitch. But a fun one, sometimes," he rounded off.

"Why do you help the Slayer? Does she force this upon you? or are you training to be a Watcher?" Lucien asked. The boy scowled up at him.

"First off, Buffy's my best friend, so don't make like she's just 'the Slayer!' She's still a teenage girl!" he snapped. "And train to be like Giles? With that much tweed and a British flag jammed up his ass? As if!" He nodded to himself firmly.

Lucien…laughed. It was a strange laugh, not his usual evil chuckle. It was actually a laugh. This strange, slightly insane human boy had just made him laugh. He stared at Xander wonderingly. There was just…_something_ about this boy…

Xander was smiling up at him as he munched on his Big Mac. "Y'know, I was wondering if you had any other expressions than scowl and grr face," he commented. "Can you even go human face on me?"

"Of course I can control my demon!" Lucien said, insulted.

"Dare ya."

"Excuse me?" he asked stiffly.

"I dare you to go all human on me," Xander challenged with a grin. Lucien glared balefully at him and willed his face to shift. Xander stared at him and smirked, victorious.

"Satisfied?" Lucien asked. The boy's unashamed staring was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. He could not even afford to think of taking the boy as his own – Angelus was notorious for his possessiveness.

"Sure," Xander said. "I just didn't think you'd look like that. All…normal. Did you do anything normal before you were Turned?"

Startled by the question, the demon had to think for a moment. "I was…not very interesting. A banker's son. My Sire inducted me to the Order after my father tried to sacrifice me to a demon to gain power. My Sire killed my father and decided to Turn me. I became a loyal disciple to him," Lucien said, telling his story as quickly as possible.

"Your Sire was the Master," Xander said quietly.

"Yes…" he said quietly. How the boy had intuited that, he hadn't a clue. From the troubled look in the boy's eyes, he had a feeling that the boy didn't know either.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Xander said simply. He had enough feeling in his voice to show that he meant it. Uncomfortable, Lucien bowed his head and turned to leave. He carefully locked the door, then leaned his back against it. There was something in the air tonight, something to foretold change. He had a feeling that it had something to do with the boy in the room behind him.

Angelus strode into the factory, pleased to see that in these pre-dawn hours, most of his people were gone. It wouldn't do to have another scene amongst his minions. His two Childers were back, however, and sitting at a table with one another. Spike refused to look at him. Drusilla, however, was staring at him. Her wide, mad eyes were fixed on him and she began to rock back and forth, whispering to herself. She could sense him even more than he could sense himself. He sighed. He hadn't a clue what he was going to do, but all he knew was that he needed to see his boy. Now. He headed up the stairs, ignoring everything around him. He began to hurry, his true face emerging without conscious thought. He hurtled towards the door, ignoring Lucien, who was staring at him. Instead, he opened the chamber, slammed it shut, and locked it.

He turned to face Xander, who was sitting on the bed, staring at him. They regarded each other silently for a few moments, then Angelus threw off his duster and moved toward Xander at the same time the mortal jumped off the bed and went to him. Without thought, demon and boy grabbed each other and their lips connected. Angelus lifted Xander up, and the boy automatically wrapped his legs around Angelus' waist, lifting and grinding their erections together through their pants. Angelus flung his head back and moaned, burying his face in Xander's neck. They both stood still for a moment, holding each other. Angelus drew back to stare into Xander's face. There was nothing but feeling there, and a tenderness in Xander's eyes that told him he knew exactly what Angelus was going through, and was right there with him. He sighed as Xander fearlessly traced over his face, tracing the ridges and folds with feathery touches that made him moan.

"I need you, Xander," he said bluntly. "Need you now. Tonight. Make you mine, forever. Only mine," he whispered, rubbing their foreheads together. Xander nodded; paused. He looked up at Angelus and kissed him. "Yours," he said simply. There wasn't any fear in his eyes, just want. Just Angelus.

The demon carried his boy to the bed and sat him down, before slowly stripping his shirt off. Xander reached up and stopped him as he removed his shirt. He took off his own, and stepped toward Angelus. The vampire grabbed him and captured his lips. The kiss took Xander's breath away as it deepened, Angelus' tongue plunging in, claiming him, conquering him. There was nothing left but giving in, but Angelus. He pulled Xander closer, and as they felt Xander's overheated chest connect with his cool one, they both moaned. Angelus trailed kisses down Xander's chin and suckled on his neck, feeling the pulse beating fast and strong under his tongue.

Xander sighed, pushing to put room between them. Angelus let him, staring down at the flushed, beautiful face of his boy as Xander smiled up at him and leaned down to kiss his neck, his collarbone. Xander moaned as the delicious, beautiful, pale skin opened up to him. He suckled an inviting, wine-dark nipple and moaned at the flavor as the sensitive flesh puckered and hardened underneath his mouth, Angelus letting out a delicious moan above him. Xander decided he liked that reaction, so he moved across the perfect chest and suckled the other nipple, letting Angelus moan above him. The vampire grabbed his face and pulled him back up for another breathtaking kiss. He took Xander's hand and guided it to his leather-clad erection, moaning at the gentle pressure as he sucked Xander's tongue into his mouth.

Xander gasped at the sensation of the huge size pressing up against his hand, and moaned as he surrendered to the power of Angelus' kiss. He used his other hand to frame the vampire's face, carefully licking away the spicy blood that had flowed from the wounds of whatever he'd been doing before he came in. Angelus submitted to Xander's care, letting the boy lap up the blood, cleaning him. Xander removed his hand from Angelus' crotch, chuckling breathlessly at the demon's desperate growl, but only held him closer. Angelus grabbed him and shoved him down on the bed, ripping Xander's pants away. The boy blushed as Angelus looked his fill, at his beautiful, golden boy, his erection hard enough to break rocks laying flush against his stomach, pooling pre-cum on his belly.

The demon divested himself of his own pants, watching Xander watch him. The boy's mouth went dry. The vampire was just so heart-rendingly beautiful, pale and magnificently muscled. His enormous cock jutted from a patch of raven curls, so thick and long, uncut. He watched in wonder as Angelus grabbed it and pumped it a time or two, moving toward him. Xander reached out and gently held it, weighing it in his curious touches. He moved and smelled the dark mystery of where cock met skin, the curls of hair. He licked the head, moaning at the taste as some of Angelus' pre-cum met his questing tongue. The vampire tossed his head back and groaned loud as a bear as Xander tasted his large balls.

He leaned down and captured Xander's face in his hands, kissing his boy again and again as he lay on top of him and finally thrusted their naked bodies together. Demon and boy gasped at the sensation, the way made slick by spit and cum. Angelus drew back and searched Xander's eyes, again seeing only agreement and desire. He smiled gently and nudged Xander's legs apart. He moaned at how easily his boy agreed, and he was finally cradled in between Xander's legs, where he'd wanted to be for so long. He lifted Xander until the boy again instinctively let his legs wrap around the vampire's hips.

Angelus reached in the bedside drawer for a tube of slick and found it, applying some to his fingers. He slowly buried his middle finger in Xander's tight, fiery hot, virginal hole, and moaned in pleasure as he felt the tight hole suck him in, holding him tight. Xander threw his head back and thrashed on the pillows, speechless in pleasure.

"Tell me, pretty," Angelus murmured into his ear. "Tell me what you want."

"You," Xander whispered. And that was all that was needed. His consent. Angelus drew back and applied some slick to his prodigious erection, kissing the head to Xander's hot little hole. His boy stared up at him. Angelus kissed him, hard, and then thrust all the way in. Xander's eyes widened and his grunted in surprise and pain. He stared up at the vampire, a question in his eyes. Angelus simply smiled in response and waited. Sure enough, Xander began to moan in pleasure as his body adjusted.

Angelus took his cue and began to thrust. It was better than anything, ever. He was surrounded by fire, by Xander. His boy's scent filled the air with the scent of burning roses and magic as he felt the Claim beginning. He thrust harder, feeling like he was flying, Xander with him, as he felt them joining, becoming one. He felt Xander bucking against him, felt the boy filling him, felt himself filling the boy, until they were one in a perfect moment of completion, as fire scorched them both from head to toe.

Angelus screamed as he came and felt Xander following him over the edge as he buried his fangs in Xander's throat.

It was hell! It was heaven! It was fire and ice and smoke and want and everything! One gulp and he stopped, stunned. The blood sizzled into him, filled him from head to toe. He felt sated. Finished. Complete. He'd found something within this blood, within Xander, that he couldn't have found anywhere else. Cruor Aduro. His soul thought that he'd found perfect happiness. He'd been wrong.

Xander was sobbing underneath him as the barriers between the two of them began to come back up. Angelus' softened cock slid from him, but the vampire simply held him the tighter. As dawn came, his boy, now truly his boy, fell to sleep, and the vampire followed, exhausted. They both slept better than they had in their entire lives.

A/N: Finally! I finished this chapter! And damn but that love scene was so damn hard to write! A great romance author I'm not, but I'm still very, very proud of this shit. It took longer than you'd think – my muse is a little insane at the moment, so it's just me here holding down the fort. This entire file is almost fifteen pages long, so I hope that's enough to stop you from killing me – just for a little while. Though I deserve it. I promise, though, next chapter will bring some mighty mighty changes, so pay attention!

Also, if anyone has any suggestions about my fight scenes, that'd be great: I'm not sure if I did that right or not. I just wanted all of us fellow Buffy lovers to see our favorite Slayer kick a little ass – I am NOT a Buffy-basher in any of my fics, I'd just like to point out.

And just to add this: thank you so much to all my reviewers. Whether you praised me, flamed me, said my story sucked, whatever – the fact that you'd take the time to read and review means so much to me. I love all of my readers, more than anything, in the most non creepy way that you can imagine. I am once again so sorry that I made you wait so long for the story.

Blessed be

PyroPadawan.


	16. XV The Kiss That Woke Sleeping Beauty

Author's Note: Wow, I'm feeling lightheaded. Seriously now, people - fifteen chapters and two prologues, and I'm just now finally beginning the meat of the story. And I mean _meat_, cuz, folks, remember that little thing about the thirteenth chapter? Well, fifteen is a big mark for me, really, so I just wanted to warn everyone that this is planned as a really long chapter, and as an important chapter as well, so, buckle up!

Also, I would like to point out that I did this chapter uniquely - each small section of it will be started by a piece of music that fits that particular section. For those who enjoy such things, there will be a final soundtrack listing for this chapter at the end of the chapter, as a sort of bonus for how long it's taken me to write this damn chapter.

IMPORTANT NOTE BEFORE READING: For all fans of this story who are reading it because they ship the Xangel (Xander/Angel) pairing: there is a Xangel archive site, for the first time ever! It's called _of Knights & Champions_, and it has a _gorgeous_ set-up. It's amazing. True, it's just getting up and running and barely has anything on it yet, but it's an amazing site - look it up!

Also, Joss Whedon and Eliza Dushku are teaming up to bring us a show called Dollhouse on FOX in January! It looks like it's gonna be amazing (duh, it's Joss), so look it up and see if it's your cup of tea!

And a huge thank you again to all of my reviewers. This is kind of getting to be a sore spot with me, really, but it's a little tiresome to post these huge chapters and get about ten messages that the story has be favorited or I have been put on author alert, but only get like four or five actual reviews. So, once this chapter is over, please, PLEASE hit the review button. It means more to me than you'd guess. Please? For cookies?

AND A MESSAGE TO MY REVIEWERS - This is the longest story I've ever written, and it's the longest I've stuck with it. That's why I dedicate this chapter to every fan of this story, particularly to those who've reviewed on each chapter - you know who you are. You who've stuck with me through the insane breaks that occur between the chapters, for the fans of my psycho writing, for the fans that take the time to drop me a one line review to say they enjoyed it, or told me why, or gave me constructive criticism. I love you all (in an entirely NOT creepy way, of course J), and I dedicate this chapter entirely to you. Blessed be.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

Chapter XV

The Kiss That Woke the Sleeping Beauty

I. Beauty Dreaming

_In sleep he sang to me;_

_In dreams he came - _

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name…_

Xander was dreaming.

_He could tell, because he could feel that he was _him_, but at the same time he knew that he was someone else in this dream, in this dream-place, in this dream-time. Whoever, _what_ever, he was running through a dark street. A crescent Moon offered only evanescent light through the dirty alleys. Feet were slapping frantically on the cobblestones, though they weren't his feet. He was running far too fast for his steps to make noise. He flew through the air like a phantom, thrilling in his power, his mastery._

_He took a deep breath, scenting the air. He could smell the clean smell of the air tempered with the rank smell of human piss and shit that had been dumped in the street like so much garbage. Through it all, the lovely tang of human fear and panic shot through his nostrils, and he made a slight adjustment to his direction. He was closing in on his prey…_

Xander shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, a frown developing in between his brows as the dream and yet not-dream continued. He couldn't have woken himself up if he wanted to, which he did want to - didn't he?

_The alleys were ending ahead of him, and there wasn't much more space for the man to run. He loved this part of the hunt, for the fear that filled the air was also spiced with the stale odor of despair that turned him on even more. The frantic human male grabbed the first large branch that he could find, swinging towards his invisible attacker. He looked on with scorn. Did the human think himself a Slayer? He grabbed the offending 'weapon' out of his prey's grasp and shattered it with a clenched fist, his every instinct whispering to him of his power, his mastery. He allowed his true face to show, his every sharp instinct honed to razor-sharp precision. The utter icy beauty of his power made him laugh, even as the human crumpled to his knees, a stream of piss adding to his vile human aroma. Pathetic._

_He bent down and grabbed the man, slamming him roughly into the wall. The man's heart was pounding wildly, all that delicious blood just out of reach. He was bleating like a sheep sent to the abattoir, crying desperately for mercy. He just laughed harder, leaning in to the man's wildly pulsing neck. "Please!" the prey cried out. "Please! My wife, my children!"_

_Angelus, master of masters, leaned back and smirked. "Aye - I'm sure the boys will enjoy watching their mother being rode like the whore she is with a real cock before I kill them all, for dessert." With that, he leaned in and sank his fangs deep into the man's neck, letting the blood flow into his being._

_There was no describing the taste of blood, at first coppery and sweet and yet spiced with so many human flavors. The flavor of love known and lost. The taste of fear and despair. The ambrosia of humanity that his demon despised even as it sought it out each night, each kill bringing he, Angelus, closer to Nirvana. It was a study in contrasts. He felt the hotness of the fresh blood washing into every part of him, making him warm, flush, hard. He dropped the pathetic meat sack once it was drained of blood. He looked down at his hard cock. He knew Darla was waiting for him, but he'd have enough for her, insatiable lady that she was, he thought fondly. Instead, he rubbed his sensitive balls and left to make good on his promise._

_He was willing to bet that he'd be the most satisfying fuck the fishwife would have in her life before she died. No one could say that he was _never_ merciful, after all…_

_He walked away from the body behind him, the flashes of life he'd glimpsed already fading from his mind, and never wondered about the fate of what had once been a man and was now merely an empty shell, drained of everything that had made it human and alive._

Xander woke up screaming so loud that it took him a while to realize that he'd torn his own chest open enough to draw blood in the effort to leave the body that was not his own.

II. Beast in Repose

_Sing once again with me_

_our strange duet;_

_My power over you_

_grows stronger yet…_

Angelus was confused.

Vampires did dream, contrary to anything you might hear from a Watcher, including about their human body's past, but rarely were vampires given dreams that were truly random, like humans. But this seemed to be one of those. For he was not himself, he knew. He was someone else. And he was afraid. He recognized this weakness and was furious to find it in himself. But he could do nothing about it. All he could do was follow the course of the dream…

_He'd always been comforted by the Moon. One of his daycare teachers from the Center that he'd had to be sent to when he was younger had told him that whenever he was afraid, all he had to do was whisper to the Goddess of the Moon, and she would protect him. He wondered if the Goddess was particular of who could implore Her protection. For though some of his classmates had been missing for a while, nothing had ever happened to him outside of his home._

_It was inside his home that Her shield seemed to falter._

_Still, he looked up at her and whispered the charm that he'd been taught: _"O, Mater Luna, Regina de Nocis, audiuvo me nunc," _he whispered. The words calmed him down a little, even though he was now old enough to know that spells and magic didn't really work. Now that he knew that real monsters couldn't be fought off by the Moon. He rounded the corner to see his home on the corner._

_Home. What a crock of shit term for the pile of bricks._

_School had been easier today than it usually was, in that he and Willow and Jesse had been ignored more than usual by Cordelia and her gang and Larry and the football assholes. Sometimes it was really bad, but he'd learned long ago the lesson that Willow probably never would - if you let them actually _see_ the damage that their thoughtless and cruel words caused, they left you alone more. Well, he couldn't actually say thoughtless around Cordelia - he could give her that much. She was smarter than she let on, because she could undress _anyone_ with her eyes and in seconds find every single emotional weakness cut into the person's soul. Then she was vicious enough to dump a boatload of salt and lemon juice onto every single cut._

_He shuddered a little as he stepped closer to the house. The lights were all off, but that was no guarantee of safety, he'd learned; nothing ever guaranteed safety. Not even the Moon. She gazed down in icy sadness on the young man as he walked slowly, like an old man, towards his home, unable to do anything else. He'd had defiance to his worthlessness beaten out of him early on._

_It was when he was inside that he learned the _real_ reason why the lights were out._

"_Where the fuck have you been?!" his mother screeched at him as he walked in. "You're _late_!" she whined, clearly already drunk on the orange juice that was seated in front of her. He didn't even know why she bothered to dilute the vodka anymore. She dumped so much in the orange juice that her taste buds had to be dead by now._

"_And why the fuck is the god damn power out?! Why can't you even pay a fucking bill?!" she screamed, rounding on Tony, his father. "You fat, stupid, drunk, lazy asshat bastard! What the fuck are you _good_ for if you can't even afford enough to pay a fucking_ bill?!_" she continued hysterically._

"_You know what I'm good for," he slurred, pulling her onto his lap. She wasn't in the mood, but Tony didn't care. He knew that his dad would come for him because when his mom fought back his dad wasn't satisfied enough and needed to get the fists out to finish himself off. He tried really hard to be asleep, but it was hard to do when the only lullaby you've ever known in you life is the sounds of your drunken father beating and raping your equally fucked up mother._

Angelus shifted in bed, aware that he was asleep, equally aware that there was nothing he could do about it. He was angry; angry that the dream body he was trapped in couldn't fight back, angry at the situation, uneasy at the sympathy it was garnering. He was a fucking _demon_! What the fuck did he care about some little pussy who couldn't stand up for himself around his home?

He never bothered to think about Liam's past and his despair over his father's attitude over him. He wasn't Liam. He was Angelus. A demon. He was soulless. Unknowingly, he pulled the boy in bed next to him closer. His Xander was shuddering, and his subconscious hoped that his embrace would calm the boy. He was as soulless as a _stone_. Damn straight.

_Tony stumbled up the stairs, leaving Jessica broken and bruised and bloody on the floor to pick up the pieces, just like she always did. He was shuddering so hard his bed was shaking, rattling more than it should, which was weird, but his bed always did that when he was afraid._

_His father stumbled into the room and pulled off his belt. The first crack burned like fire as it fell onto his soft, unprotected belly. He tried desperately to not scream, but by the fifth or sixth lash, interspersed with his father's meaty fists, he was curled into a fetal ball on the floor, strategically ensuring that no one at school would ever see how bad the bruises would be the next day._

_He tied to stop the scream, but couldn't help himself. "Goddess," he moaned. That stopped his father and his insistent ramblings on his son's uselessness and stupidity and on how his son was a bitch and worthless and a fag anyway. Somehow, the word Goddess always struck something in Tony. He grabbed his son by the hair and hurled him as hard as he could across the room. Xander screamed in agony as he struck the wall and his head cracked against it. He could feel blood welling already, and he saw stars, before he sank to the floor. He heard his father turn and stumble out of the room, leaving his belt behind._

_He dragged himself out of his bedroom and into the family bathroom. Angelus was shaking with a fury and a hatred and a despair so acute that when the body looked into the mirror and it was Xander's, he wasn't even surprised. He just opened his mouth and roared in agony at what he knew was a normal night in the Harris household._

III. Quickening

_Everything burns_

_Everyone screams_

_Burning their lies_

_Burning my dreams_

_All of this hate_

_And all of this pain_

_Burn it all down_

_As my anger rains_

_Till everything burns…_

Angelus snapped awake, confused and disoriented, unaware of his surroundings. For just a moment he clutched his ribs, remembering the pain of the makeshift whip and the humiliation of the hand delivering it. For a moment, he, Angelus, the demon, ceased to be, and it was just Xander who filled him. The scent of Xander was overpowering, the raw essence that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous to any demon's self-control. The scent of chocolate that somehow always managed to cling to his sun-kissed boy was all around him…too much so.

He shook himself to see Xander curled on the floor, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes, blood seeping slowly in between fingers that were trying to hold it back. Angelus threw himself out of bed, instantly on the defensive, looking for the fool who dared to touch his boy, the rage left over from the dream/memory making him morph into game-face without a conscious thought. He calmed slightly when his enhanced vampiric senses told him there wasn't anything in the room save for himself and Xander.

So he turned to the boy, who was crouched, huddled in on himself. He looked afraid, which made no sense to Angelus, considering last night…he had to fight the cat-ate-the-canary grin which wanted to spread across his face at the thought of last night. He had a sense that Xander didn't need that right now. Where that sense came from, and, more importantly, why the fuck he _cared_ that Xander didn't need that right now, he had no idea, but the fact that their joining - which had been the best fuck of Angelus' undead existence - hadn't made Xander any more amenable. In fact, the boy looked _afraid_. The demon had seen him stressed, pissed, a little scared, but there was real fear in the boy's eyes now.

What had put it there? he wondered.

"Xander," he tried to begin softly. Instead, the boy interrupted him.

"I had a dream," he said in a hushed voice. He didn't seem to want Angelus to leave, but he also shied away when the vampire moved closer. Angelus paused, utterly confused and unsure as to what the hell was going on.

"About me, I'd hope," he tried, in an effort to return Xander to his state of mind last night. Maybe if he got the delectable boy in his bed again, where he belonged, this could be put behind them. The boy nodded, but there was a strange look in his eyes.

"I think I _was_ you," he said quietly. "And I killed them all." Angelus stopped cold.

"Killed who, sweet?" he asked softly.

"That man in the alley in France with the wife who still smelled like fish and the two little boys but I made them watch and they watched and they screamed when I but it wasn't me it was _you_ but it was me and I was so fucking happy when I killed him and there was so much blood but that was good to but it was bad blood is bad and there's death and that's not good and-" Xander froze as a cold finger made his lips stop moving, cutting him off in full on Xander-babble mode. Angelus was next to him, impossibly, looming like a huge specter of Xander's nightmares and other types of dreams that were nowhere near as bad, but somehow all Xander wanted at the moment wasn't Angelus, but Angel; for even if the souled vampire had never returned Xander's unspoken feelings, he would have found a way to calm him down with a word or a gesture. Xander didn't know what to expect from Angelus.

"That wasn't you, boy. That was me," Angelus said, confused. He vaguely remembered the man's family the boy was talking about - he hadn't killed the youngest boy, which was probably the best of it; after he'd killed the mother and the older boy he'd heard the sister hiding out in the woodshed. There was supposedly the ghost of a crazed boy who'd killed his whole family and been hanged for it on that property, and he'd kill anyone who lived on it. Tell the truth, Angelus wouldn't be surprised if the boy had become a ghost. Anyone who was put through what he'd been put through had a right to be pissed enough to not move on.

"But I-"

"Listen to me," Angelus said calmly, not letting Xander argue. "We both dreamed last night of each other, and I don't have a clue what it means, but I'm not you and you're not me. What I do I choose to do. You don't have a say in the matter."

"You're an asshole," Xander said after a moment. Angelus nodded serenely, then smirked as he picked Xander up and tossed him back onto the bed. Xander squirmed in embarrassment, as if just realizing that he was naked. He blushed furiously as Angelus' cock began to rise. He pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around his knees, hiding himself from the insistent demon that looked ready to jump him.

"Nuh-uh, pal," he said firmly. "We need to talk about this." Angelus' eyes widened at the flat-out refusal in Xander's voice. "Why are we in each other's dreams? What the hell was last night? What now? Why did you bite me? Why doesn't my neck hurt? What the hell happened to your face? What the fuck-"

"Stop!" Angelus snapped over the rising volume in Xander's increasingly hysterical questions. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He didn't have the faintest idea what was going on, or, more importantly, what was happening to him. Things were changing between him and the boy, he could feel it. He could feel desire rising in him constantly, but there wasn't a desire to hurt - at least, not beyond the point that Xander wouldn't enjoy it.

He had had that damn Slayer in his grasp, practically _dead_ already last night, and he'd walked away. His face still felt like it was broken, and yet he'd walked away. It wasn't like he _regretted_ Claiming Xander, yet…this was no ordinary Claim. He had an…_awareness_ of Xander like the boy was an aura hovering over his skin. It had made the lov--the _fucking_ so intense last night that Angelus doubted even Darla had made him come that hard before. But now the boy was dreaming things that he had no right to dream about. His powers weren't even slightly awakened yet, innate or no. Something was definitely happening to both of him.

What really bothered him was that he _cared_ about how Xander felt about the whole thing. Like now, for instance. The dream he'd had during his brief sleep was enough to let him figure out why the hurt had flashed, huge and easily, across his boy's chocolate eyes before he carefully schooled his face into a mask, hiding from Angelus. The boy's father had a lot to answer for…but he stopped himself from thinking about it, lest his true face escape and frighten the boy more. He sighed and sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He drudged up memories of his time as that souled pussy Angel, wondering what the hell it was that he was supposed to say.

"I got into a fight with Buffy last night," he finally said quickly, latching on to the easiest of the questions to answer. Which, as it turned out, probably wasn't the best one to address first.

"You WHAT?!" the boy yelled. "Is she alright? Did you hurt her? Did she hurt _you_? Is that what happened to your face? Oh, God, what about Willow--"

"YES, she hurt me!" Angelus said irritably. "Nice of you to notice," he said, rather sulkily. Great. Now he was getting jealous because the boy thought of his friends over him. Next he was going to be wooing Xander with flowers and poetry. _Hells, no,_ he thought in dismay. _I'm not Spike!_ A hand jolted him out of his reverie. Xander was suddenly next to him, his large, expressive eyes wide as he hesitantly, sweetly, brushed his hand over the worst of the bruises that lingered around Angelus' eye. He froze, but didn't pull away. Xander slowly traced the outlines of the two other bruises, the gash above his eye, the bite on his lip that the boy had put there himself. He noticed the boy's remorse about the wound he'd inflicted, and growled gently. Xander moved back, startled, but Angelus moved forward and caught his lips in a kiss.

He felt the boy melt against him instantly, again feeling that eerie feeling of union with the boy as he felt his own lips reflected against him a million times over, as he felt his own feelings and Xander's and as he took control, the sweet submission in his beautiful boy as he opened his mouth for his master. Angelus pulled back, wondering again at the loss of sensation as that which was _him_ disengaged from that which was _Xander_.

"What's happening to me?" Xander asked breathlessly when they broke apart.

"I don't know," Angelus said softly. "But now yer mine, no matter what," he whispered, holding Xander close, owning him.

"What do you mean?" Xander asked, pulling back. "You bit me last night," he said, fingering the bite mark. A bolt of pleasure went through Angelus as his demon contemplated his boy touching the Claim scar. "It doesn't even hurt. And ever since you bit me things have been getting weirder than they already _have_ been. Don't lie to me. Not after last night; don't you dare," Xander said, the same steel in his voice that had so aroused Angelus that night at the hospital.

"I Claimed you," he said flatly. "Now no other demon will touch you, unless they're too stupid to smell me on you or if they have a death wish," he continued. He could feel Xander's boiling point starting to hit on this strange empathic level they'd reached with each other, and he knew that yet again he had managed to say the wrong thing.

"You _Claimed_ me?" Xander demanded. He could feel something of what he'd been feeling last night coming back to him in full force, and he was surprised at the amount of hurt he was feeling. "Great! So now I'm just some _thing_ that you own? How could you not have just _asked_ me? I get the fact that I was stupid to let last night happen; I mean, you're only after me because you have this freakish idea that I'm something I'm not—"

Angelus acted on instinct and kissed him again. Xander sighed and submitted to the strong tongue that explored his mouth, moaning helplessly. Angelus probed Xander's mouth, tasting chocolate and something that was just bright and sunny and dark and just _Xander_, feeling Xander feeling him, and it was that strange feeling of connectedness that he had felt last night, and suddenly he understood why Xander was actually hurt by what he said.

"Xander," he said, drawing back. "I'm not your family." Xander stared up at him, flushed, not comprehending what he was getting at. "I Claimed you because you're mine, and I don't want anyone else to have you. I want to keep you," Angelus elaborated. "It was also for your protection, considering you're a human in a factory full of vampires."

Xander's mouth formed a little O of comprehension and surprise as he peered up at Angelus, as if trying to figure out if the vampire was just telling him this to shut him up. Angelus felt a surge of rage at the boy's family, fed by his memory of the dream/memory that he'd lived through last night. Angelus leaned down and kissed him again, as soulful a kiss as a soulless creature could give. He pulled back, but Xander held on to him, clutching the demon as if he were the boy's last anchor to earth.

_I'm in love with you_, Angelus heard faintly, as if someone had whispered it to the back of his mind. He had a strange sense of Xander inside him, and he looked down in surprise. Xander was staring back at him, and the vampire was sure that the boy hadn't a clue that he had heard the thought. So he leaned down to kiss the boy again, rather than deal with whatever he felt about the thought.

He sighed when Xander broke the kiss, but when he leant to recapture the boy's mouth, the boy put a hand on his chest, stopping him. Angelus relented with a growl, and Xander smiled, that slow smile that was so rarely seen, that lit up his entire face. Angelus gave him a questioning look, but Xander answered it without words when he leaned down and captured one of the vampire's nipples in his mouth. Angelus tossed his head back with a moan and felt Xander's hand stroke across his pectoral and latch on to the other nipple, pinching and pulling at it till it was hard as a rock.

Angelus reached down to hold Xander's head there, but the boy stopped his hand and kissed his way up the vampire's broad, muscular chest up to his neck, where he bit down gently and sucked on the vampire's unbeating jugular vein. Angelus went very still, a loud growl escaping his lips as the boy raised a welt on one of his most sensitive body parts. Xander chuckled breathlessly and kissed the demon hard, but drawing back before Angelus could take control of the kiss. The demon growled at the boy's blatant teasing, but Xander only smiled before he went back to Angelus' nipples.

Xander didn't have a clue what he was doing; he was just acting on his desires. He reveled in every groan and growl that he wrenched from his demon's lips, feeling a strange feeling of being desirable shoot through him. He'd never felt like this before, and all that he could think of was Angelus' words: _I want to keep you_. He felt a small happy place in his heart that previously only Buffy and Willow could touch, and he knew that this could either hurt him so much he'd want to die, or it could be the best thing that ever happened to him.

_Oh, well_, he thought, loving the taste of Angelus' wondrously defined abdomen as he licked and sucked on the muscles there. Leave the future to Giles' old prophesy books. This was where he was now, come what may and hell to pay. With that last thought, he gave himself fully over to the sensation of Angelus that he could feel rising in him, and he dropped to his knees, gave the vampire a sweet smile, and then licked down his erection and gently started to taste his balls.

Angelus growled in surprised pleasure, letting the boy set the pace of whatever was happening between them. It was a loss of control that he'd always had around the boy, and he was surprised how pleasurable it was. His true face rippled into being, he couldn't suppress it any more than he could have lost his erection. He looked down at Xander, and a bolt of pleasure went through him when the boy looked up into his yellow eyes without fear or revulsion. Their eyes met for a moment, and Angelus found himself panting, desperately wanting to plunge his cock into the boy's mouth and holding himself back.

Xander firmly gripped the base of Angelus' massive erection, fastened his lips around the thick head, and started sucking. He could feel Angelus' growls and moans of pleasure throbbing through his very being as he went down as deep as he could. The vampire was so big he couldn't fit much in his mouth, but he sucked hard on as much as he could, swallowing around the thick head.

Angelus froze. He couldn't take it anymore; he grabbed Xander's head and started thrusting desperately into the sweet, hot mouth. Xander kept a firm grip on the base of the vampire's cock, using his grip to keep himself from gagging as Angelus fucked his mouth. He used his tongue to push against he bottom of his cock as he sucked hard on the rest of the vampire's cock. Angelus threw his head back and howled his pleasure as he came, filling Xander's mouth with his seed. Xander greedily swallowed it all down, savoring the flavor of Angelus in his mouth.

Angelus stared down in wonder at Xander, who smiled slowly at him. He had no idea what was happening between them…but somehow, he couldn't find much to motivate him to care. All he knew was that Xander was with him, alone, in their room, and he could feel some basic need that he had never known he had being fulfilled. He kissed Xander hungrily, loving the taste of himself in Xander's mouth, and carried his boy to bed.

IV. Claimed

_My hands are searching for you_

_My arms are outstretched towards you_

_I feel you on my fingertips_

_My tongue dances behind my lips, for you_

_As fire rushes through my being_

_Burning, I'm not used to seeing you_

_I'm alive_

_I'm alive_

_I can feel you all around me_

_Thickening the air I'm breathing_

_Holding on to what I'm feeling_

_Savoring this heart…_

Xander had thought that he was going insane before, but now he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

Every moment that Angelus was gone was like a constant nagging ache in his chest that he could barely ignore. He _felt_ Angelus on a primal level deep within him, and whenever his vampire was coming home Xander stopped whatever he was doing and waited impatiently by the door. Most of the time Angelus couldn't even walk so much as a step into their chamber before Xander was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, desperately pressing kisses into the vampire's skin as the boy reassured himself that the demon was there.

Angelus never failed to respond to the assault. Xander was getting used to being a little sore in the hind area lately. He didn't mind it; it just reminded him of Angelus. More and more he felt like he was leaving his old life behind him. Thoughts that used to center on Buffy and Willow and his friends were becoming obsessed with Angelus. Sometimes when he was alone he would start to think about Buffy, and indeed about Angel, but he always shied away from these thoughts. He'd made his choice when he'd left the Bronze with Angelus.

Thinking about why he'd left the Bronze in the first place was troubling now. Ever since the night that Angelus had Claimed him (he still couldn't help smiling stupidly and fingering the scar on his neck when he thought of it), something had been happening to him…something weird. Like how when he and Angelus were together that strange feeling of being joined in more than just body, or how he could read Angelus' mood before he even spoke. He'd tried it on Lucien too, and had confounded his bodyguard when he'd been able to tell that the vampire was lying. Xander was having dreams that had a habit of coming true: things that vampires around him would say, for instance. While a large part of him didn't believe anything that Angelus had told him about his supposed 'power,' and was merely staying here because of the vampire, a smaller part of him was beginning to become afraid that the demon was right.

_And if he _is _right_, Xander thought, _what do I do then?_

Angelus was in a foul mood, and the particularly luscious blonde that he'd just drained did nothing to alleviate him. He let her drop to the floor and banged his head against a blood-splattered wall. What the Hell was wrong with him? He looked around. The small suburban house was a nightmare; he'd followed the girl home and tricked her into inviting him in. He'd then proceeded to fuck her (she'd been so easy to seduce) hard enough that she screamed and her parents came charging in to find their darling daughter riding a stranger's cock with an ease that descried practice.

It had been such fun to see her father's face when Angelus, still naked and hard, laughingly punched the horrified mother hard enough to knock her out. The father had followed. Angelus then tackled the screaming teenager and finished his business. The torture that had followed had been long and satisfying…but still he felt a sense of unfinished disgust as he looked at the girl. In weeks past, he would have relished such a hot fuck, and her blood had been laced with such guilt and utter despair that he was surprised she hadn't driven herself as crazy as Drusilla when she'd seen what he'd done to her parents.

And yet all that he wanted to do now was go home to Xander. A smile forced itself onto his face as he thought of how his beautiful boy would greet him when he came home, assuring himself of the vampire's presence. Angelus took great pleasure in his boy's devotion, as any master vampire should. But it was more than that. The boy wasn't a pet; Angelus had enough of those. He was…he couldn't come up with the words needed to describe it. He _felt_ the boy down to his toes, and it had gotten worse since he'd Claimed him.

All those old myths about the Cruor Aduro that he'd so easily dismissed had turned out to be true; no matter how much hot blood he glutted himself on, nothing could satisfy his thirst until he drank from Xander's neck. And yet, all he needed was a sip to feel his power grow to its fullest. He doubted that the Slayer could stand up to him while he was filled with his boy. And it was clear that Xander was feeling the effects of the Claim as well -- the undeniable passion the boy exhibited whenever he went home to their room was infectious and…_endearing_.

Angelus sighed in disgust. It couldn't be borne; he ached for Xander. His taste for the hunt was gone, his pleasure in torture was following. He was joined to his boy on a primal level that even his demon didn't understand, and it made him feel weak. Dependant. He, Angelus, the master of masters, had become enthralled with a mortal! This wasn't the plan! Xander was meant to be putty in his hands, a living weapon that depended on Angelus for everything that the vampire might turn him against the Slayer and rid himself of that troublesome bitch once and for all! But instead, here he was, barely an hour after leaving the factory, rushing back to be with Xander.

He strode into the factory, his mood darkening when he was intercepted by Jesse. The little fire crotch had become insufferable lately; he should never have fucked her in the first place. The only problem with dispatching the little slut was that she was one of the few minions that he'd made since assuming command over Sunnydale that had an ounce of brains left to her, and he needed as many smart vampires as he could get. No matter how Beach Barbie Buffy could act at times, she was a conniving little bitch with an unprecedented talent for destroying demons which, in collusion with the Watcher's brains and the witch's magic, was making her a very large thorn in his side.

"Master," Jesse said breathlessly, staring up at him with big doe eyes.

"What?" he snapped irritably, letting his mood show on his face. Her face fell as she realized that he was in no mood to fool with her. "What?" he snarled, daring her to show her clear displeasure to him. She gave him a clipped bow and a 'welcome home' that would have had Napoleon checking his food for poison, and turned to leave.

Suddenly, she turned around, incensed. "What the _hell_ does that little human _boy_" she sneered unexpectedly "have that I don't have? You didn't seem to mind the gender change last time," she said almost mockingly. He growled threateningly, but she only smiled back. "And don't go growling at _me_ - ask anyone in this house. Ask your own _Childers_, for Hell's sake: this boy was supposed to be part of some big plan of yours, and instead you're too busy fucking him to so much as _look_ at the Slayer, and with those idiot grunts that keep showing up here, the bitch is gonna follow _someone_ home and I won't be in the least bit surprised when we all wake up on _fire_." With that parting shot, she left without a backward glance, hiding the fury smoldering in her eyes from him as she stormed down the stairs.

Angelus let her go. The only problem with her insubordination was that she was right. Jealous whore that she was, she'd just given a voice to the problems his mind had been wrestling with all night.

"Master?" Lucien asked suddenly. Angelus looked up to see Xander's bodyguard at the foot of the stairs, watching him warily. He inclined his head for the other vampire to speak. "Could it be that she is right? The boy is your Cruor Aduro; the tales…" he trailed off.

"She _is_ right, Lucien, that's the problem," Angelus said. He sighed, feeling like that souled pussy Angel as the weight of his problems settled on his shoulders. He wanted to see Xander but at the same time he knew that seeing his boy would only cloud his thinking until Xander was all that he could think of. Hell with it - he was Angelus, wasn't he? He could take this into his own hands and to Hell with the consequences. He was still in control of the boy; he'd probably die for his demon. It was time to prove it.

"Summon Drusilla to my chambers, Lucien," he ordered, and marched up the stairs toward their room. The bodyguard bowed respectfully, but Angelus could sense that Jesse had been right - whatever he was going to do with Xander now, he'd have to do it soon, else he'd lose control of the minions. The Master, moldy old bastard that he was, had at least had the right idea when it came to controlling minions.

And yet, despite everything, when he stepped into the room and Xander predictably ran to him, he couldn't stop himself from pulling the boy to him hard enough to hurt and plundering that delicious mouth with his tongue as he felt their very essences joining together in a forge of passion that no ice could quench.

V. The Scent of Obsession

_I hate everything about you_

_Why do I love you?_

_I hate everything about you_

_Why do I love you?_

Jesse waited until he was out of sight of her Master before she exploded. She screamed in rage, she let her ugly vampiric nature come to the fore and snarled so viciously that three other minions ran out of the room. She smashed a chair against a wall until it snapped into so many pieces, just as she dreamed of doing to Angelus' precious little boy whore until he understood that she could give her master what a pathetic mortal simply could not.

She picked up a makeshift stake and grabbed a newer fledge - a pretty boy, she thought with a sneer: he looked kind of like Xander, a brunette with tan skin anyway, and she slammed it up against the wall hard enough for a few of its ribs to snap.

"AM I BEAUTIFUL?!" she screamed into its face.

"Yes!" it screamed desperately. She slammed her fist into its puny face, smirking as one of its teeth flew out. She slammed a finger into its right eye, enjoying the squishy pulp and ichor as the demon under her fist screeched its pain. She threw it to the floor and kicked it in its already damaged ribs a couple of times, reveling in the pathetic thing's screams of pain and fear. She threw her shirt off, exposing her sizeable breasts, and knelt over the thing.

"Do you want me?" she asked quietly, running a hand over one of her nipples. Dazed and confused, the demon underneath her nodded, desperately trying to appease her. "Then what the HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!" she screamed, venting her fury on the thing's worthless hide as she hit it again and again. She threw its pants off, smirking as she saw the pale erection the lesser vampire was sporting. She gripped it hard enough for the creature to wince and go completely still. It was a thick thing, making up for in girth what it lacked in size (nothing compared to Angelus, of course, but not bad), and it hardened even more under her touch.

She slowly stood. "Take off my pants," she ordered coldly. The vampire hurried to obey, tearing her pants in the process. "I _liked_ those pants," she hissed coldly, slapping it across the face, irritating the welts her demonic nails had left there already. It trembled in terror as she kicked it down to the floor.

"You want me?" she demanded, crouching over him. He nodded desperately. She was barely aware of the eyes in the corner, watching all of this with a shocked sort of curiosity as she impaled herself on the cock waiting for her. She rode him punishing hard, punching him at intervals as she nearly sobbed with frustration as she tried to picture Angelus underneath her. It wasn't working. She brought herself to climax, screaming "Cum for me, you worthless little shit!" The demon underneath her screamed as a painful orgasm reamed through his bruised and abused body. She climbed off of him. "You'll see," she whispered to her pretend Angelus in her mind. Then she lifted the stake and slammed it through the creature's heart as hard as she could. With one last pathetic screech of pain, it exploded into ash beneath her hands.

She slowly stood, breathing hard with oxygen that she didn't need. She suddenly slumped on the wall, letting out a frustrated sob. It wasn't _fair_! Angelus had turned her himself. He'd captivated her with his beauty, he'd flirted with her, elevated her, made love to her, and then tossed her aside, and for _what_? For some worthless little mortal that was best friends with the Slayer! How could he _do_ this to her?

She'd show him, oh god, she'd _fix_ him until he was begging to have her back. She took a composing breath. She needed to feed, needed something hot and thick to calm her down. She looked down at her ruined clothes. She could get dressed, but she didn't even feel like hunting. But why hunt, she wondered when there was…so…much…here… She froze. Of _course_! How fucking stupid was she? She _could_ get rid of that disgusting mortal, and she didn't even have to risk angering Angelus by doing the world a favor and killing him!

She giggled to herself. Dear god, this was beyond perfect, it was set up _for_ her, practically, by her master himself! As she headed off to the room she made for herself, fixing her plans in her head, Spike stepped slowly out of the shadows. _Interestin'_, _that_, he thought to himself as he lit up a cigarette. He'd watched this idiot since Angelus had shown an interest in her. But Spike knew firsthand that those who his unbelievably beautiful and stupid Sire tossed aside had a way of getting smart and coming back to try and kill him.

Now, he _could_ repay his Sire for healing him by telling him that a conniving and vicious attack was about to be placed on him. Or, he could pay his Sire back for all the fucking with him and Dru and for all of the insults and the torture and the abandonment for centuries by _not_ telling him and watching the fun begin. _Decisions, decisions_, he thought with a smirk. But as he watched Drusilla walk up to Angelus' room without hesitation, he knew that his decision had truly been made for him a long time ago.

He turned his back on his Sire as his Sire had done to him more than a century ago and walked away.

VI. Forever Yours, Eternally Mine

_And I want to take you down_

_But your soul could not be found_

_It doesn't matter much, you say_

'_Cause your disease has killed me_

_And you know it's only right_

'_Cause it feels like paradise_

_I know nothing is for free_

'_Cause your disease has killed me_

Xander returned Angelus' kiss greedily, moaning at the taste and the feel of joining again with this magnificent creature that for some inexplicable reason was here with him, loser Xander Harris. He could feel Angelus' hard need against his thigh as Angelus pulled him tight, and Xander broke away to breathe as Angelus trailed hard sucking kisses down his neck. Xander didn't even tense; he just pressed his neck against Angelus' mouth. Angelus growled his approval as he felt Xander's hand on the bulge in his pants as he shifted to his true face and bit down on Xander's scarred neck.

Xander moaned ecstatically as the pain quickly dissolved into pleasure as he felt himself psychically joined to Angelus in the most intimate of embraces he could ever know as Angelus gulped a draught of his blood. The vampire moaned in rapture as he tore Xander's shirt off in one move that still made Xander hot no matter how many times the vampire did it. He slumped in sensory overload as the vampire bit at his sensitive nipples, grinning savagely as Xander groaned and held his head there. Xander fucked like a demon, and Angelus loved every minute of it.

Xander fell to his knees and freed Angelus' straining hard on from his pants, licking it eagerly as Angelus' head fell back against the door and the vampire quickly divested himself of his shirt, letting Xander's hands play across the vast muscular wonderland that was Angelus' upper body. Hot fingers found his wine-dark nipples and Angelus let out a purr of pleasure as Xander suckled him, taking as much of his cock down as he could. Angelus watched with greedy pleasure as Xander took him in.

He reached down and hauled Xander to his feet, stripping the boy of his pants as he went. Xander leapt onto the vampire, wrapping his legs around Angelus, feeling the vampire's hard cock rubbing at his hungry little hole as they humped. Angelus growled and carried Xander to the desk, finding a tube of slick and rubbing it onto his cock. He didn't bother with preparing Xander with his fingers; Xander let out a growl of his own and pulled Angelus into him. Angelus moaned as he sank into the tight honeyed heat of Xander's ass, kissing Xander hard as they thrust together desperately.

Parting for even as long as they had been was bad, they both simultaneously decided as Angelus found a new angle that hit Xander's sweet spot with every thrust. Demon and boy, boy and demon joined together in ecstasy as they fell together, every inch of flesh that could be touching rubbing together as they reaffirmed joint claims. Long ago Xander would have been embarrassed by the sound of Angelus' weighty balls slapping against his ass as the demon rocked harder, but now it only turned him on more as he felt himself getting closer to that peak.

Angelus felt it inside of himself too, and threw back his head and roared loud enough to shake the desk they were on as he emptied his large load into his boy's hungry hole at the same time that Xander howled in pleasure as he exploded in white drops of hot cum that splattered his chest. He slumped onto Angelus' heaving chest, holding Angelus closer, refusing to let Angelus' limpening cock fall from his hole. He liked it best like this, when Angelus didn't have to worry about being the big bad vampire and would just hold him close, nursing in the afterglow.

"Gods, sweeting, what you do to me," he whispered in Xander's ear.

"I love you," Xander whispered back, for only Angelus to hear. As always, Angelus purred with pleasure at the words and Xander tightened his hold on his vampire. But Angelus pushed away, falling out of Xander with a sigh. Xander sighed himself at the loss, but Angelus picked him up and carried him to the bed. "It's time, Xander," he murmured into the boy's hair.

"Time for what?" Xander asked muzzily.

"You'll see," Angelus said cryptically. He swatted Xander playfully on his rump and rose from the bed, reaching for clean clothes. Xander tore his gaze away from Angelus' ass (it sounded like this might be serious), and stood to find a pair of pants that wasn't shredded. Angelus stopped him with a hand to his arm. They didn't need to speak as much in the bedroom since the Claim - usually one or the other could sense what the other wanted. It was one of those topics that they didn't discuss. Xander wordlessly took the leather pants and white button up that Angelus gave him and slipped them on. He didn't worry about taking a shower; if they were going to leave the room, Angelus would want him smelling of sex and his ownership - it was a vampire thing. Xander didn't question it; indeed, it felt kind of sexy, carrying Angelus' scent on him: it marked him as belonging specifically to Angelus.

He had barely struggled into the pants when there was a light tap on the door. Xander turned, suddenly feeling a sense of foreboding that he couldn't explain. When Angelus opened the door to reveal Drusilla, who was wearing a blood red cloak and a deep purple gown that made her look like a faerie princess, Xander turned to Angelus, a question on his lips. But Angelus simply motioned towards Drusilla, who held out a hand for him. Xander stared at her nervously. Before Angelus could say anything, however, Drusilla spoke for him.

"Don't be nervous, kitten. Mummy won't hurt you, mummy wants to make you part of the family!" Drusilla said, dancing into the room. Xander stared at her, caught up in her madness. He had a sense of power behind her that he hadn't been aware of before - everyone always wrote her off as crazy, but he knew that she wore that insanity as a shield, hiding the power within. He had a sense that he could watch her dance all night if she wanted him to, but she sashayed toward him, ignoring Angelus' possessive warning growls, and gently stroked his face. "Don't worry," she repeated, holding his gaze in hers. "All will be well, and all will be whole, just like days of old," she sing-songed. Xander nodded, glancing toward Angelus.

"That's enough then," the vampire said, placing his hands on Xander's shoulders. Drusilla nodded, smiling to herself, and led the way out of the chamber. Xander walked behind her, followed by Angelus, and he could swear he felt like Sleeping Beauty following Maleficent to her seeming doom. He reassured himself that Angelus could kiss him awake, and followed. Angelus, feeling Xander's acceptance, smiled to himself as he followed his Childe out of the factory. It was time…and Xander was his.

VII. By the Pricking of my Thumbs, Something Wicked this Way Comes

_How can you see into my eyes_

_Like open doors?_

_Leading you down into my core_

_Where I've become so numb_

_Without a soul_

_My spirit sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead_

_It back home_

_(Wake me up)_

_Wake me up inside_

_(I can't wake up)_

_Wake me up inside_

_(Save me)_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_(Wake me up)_

_Bid my blood to run_

_(I can't wake up)_

_Before I come undone_

_(Save me)_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

_Bring me to life_

_(I've been living a lie_

_There's nothing inside)_

_Bring me to life_

_Frozen inside, without your touch_

_Without your love, darling_

_Only you are the life among the dead_

_All of this time, I can't believe I couldn't see_

_Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_I've got to open my eyes to everything_

_Without a thought, without a touch, without a soul_

_(Don't let me die here)_

_There must be something more_

_Bring me to life…_

The Moon hung huge and heavy in the sky tonight, a pregnant goddess lighting the way with a glow like witch fire as Drusilla led the way outside. It was quite the strange procession, Xander would remember later on: the insane psychic vampire leading a mortal boy who was trailed by his possessive vampire master. Xander paused to simply breathe; it had been more than two months since he'd been outside to breathe the outside air. The air felt charged, as if some secret magic was already whispering around him - if only he could hear!

He remembered Willow saying something about how the full moon was the sign of the goddess, a Wiccan holy day when magic is performed. But thinking about Willow was painful, now that he was outside of the factory, so he willed the thought away. As if sensing his inner turmoil returning, Angelus placed a hand on Xander's back, leading him to follow Drusilla. They headed deeper into the factories, following a warren of alleys that Xander knew he couldn't keep straight. They were all silent, save for a little tune that Drusilla was humming. He knew that if he turned around Angelus would be in game face to see in the dark. As it was, he had only the hand of his Claimant to guide his way.

He felt drunk on the air itself, on the power of this night, on the expectation of what was to happen. He had the powerful feeling that he was back on the balcony of the Bronze, on a precipice where there was only two choices: to leap into the unknown or to run backwards toward safety, lovely and tedious as it was. He'd jumped that last time, and this was where it had gotten him. He had the urge to giggle. The Moon was supposed to drive people crazy. Maybe he was already crazy.

Here he was, following _Drusilla_ to god-knew-where, with _Angelus_, who he was _sleeping with_, following behind them, and here he was, Xander Harris. He thought about Lucien and wondered what the hell that big silent bastard did when he wasn't there, and he thought about how worried his friends must be, and then he wrenched his thoughts away from that place in his mind and instead wondered if the rats in Sunnydale were demonic too, because that would be just his luck. Then he wondered where that thought came from. _Sometimes I shouldn't think_, he berated himself.

He smelled something on the air that he couldn't at first identify, until they came out of a back alley and he saw the Fish Tank. They were near the wharf, he realized; they must have been walking for at least an hour. Huh, he hadn't even noticed. Xander-babble did strange things to you, even when you were the one babbling it, he thought to himself. The scent on the air was brine. He hadn't realized because he was used to smelling it on the cleaner beaches of touristy Sunnydale Beach, instead of the nastiness of Sunnydale Harbor, where all the dead fish and stuff came in. Drusilla headed down for the fairly skanky looking sand below the dock, and he turned to question Angelus. But the big vampire only looked at him, and Xander sighed and followed after her.

As he squelched down in the muddy sand, he knew that he'd never _ever_ wear these shoes again. No matter what. He was fairly sure that the water they were walking near smelled worse than the ass crack of the whore of Babylon, whoever that was. Religion was _way_ beyond him even at the best of times, and this was clearly not the best of times. He fought thinking as he squelched down the sand, so he fell back to randomness, because it was what he did best.

_How do douches work?_ he found himself wondering. He'd called people douche-bags plenty of times, but what did that even _mean_, anyway? What went in the bag? He'd seen a douche commercial for "Intimate Mist" and he'd flipped away from the channel quickly. How weird, spraying some fruity thing up god knew where so that you could get rid of…well, did dirty girls actually smell like fish? Who'd made that little jump? _I wish I had a chocolate bar_, he thought to himself. He jerked when Drusilla stopped. He looked around and noticed that they were on a deserted beach, much cleaner than the one they'd stopped on. There were already about five vampires standing around a circle of stones.

Xander stopped uncertainly, looking around. Drusilla had already stepped to the head of the circle, and had turned to look at him. Xander had the unnerving feeling that every vampire was staring at him. He noticed there was a cauldron in the middle of the circle that was frothing over a low fire. He turned to Angelus, and saw the big vampire staring at him, expressionless.

"Angelus…" he started, nervously. Angelus put a gentle finger over his lips.

"Do you love me?" he asked unexpectedly.

"What?" Xander asked, taken aback.

"Do you love me?" he repeated, staring at him, through him with unfathomable yellow eyes. Xander hadn't even noticed the shift to game face. Angelus waited for an answer, not moving, unblinking. Xander felt frozen in time, him and this magnificent demon, a creature capable of humanity, yes, but an animal nonetheless. He knew that he was standing at the edge of that precipice again, and that there was nothing but blackness at the bottom. He thought of his crappy life made lighter by his friends, he thought of never finding love until…he knew there was no way happiness could come of this. But he was no coward. And he'd never be complete without this either. So there was really only one answer to this.

"Yes."

Angelus leaned in and kissed him, hard. Xander returned the kiss with a passion that he hadn't thought he'd be able to display in front of the other vampires, but there was a power here, a melding of angel and demon in his flesh that was coming alive at Angelus' touch, a whisper of power and of glory and pain and blood and death and life and love all at the same time, until he whimpered at the primal song roaring to life inside of him.

"I'm bleeding," Xander said dazedly, pulling back. Angelus smirked at him, licking his lips. He licked Xander's bleeding lips, till his vampiric healing saliva kicked in. Xander allowed himself to be led to the circle, until he was in the middle, next to the cauldron. Drusilla and Angelus stepped forward, a signal apparently to the other vampires, who began a creepy chant in Latin or some other archaic language for which there was no name.

Drusilla lifted her voice to the heavens as she threw her head back and chanted

_Child of the Elements_

_Child of the Earth_

_Child of the Firmament_

_Of Lillith and of Angels_

_Of demons borne we call to thee_

_Awaken!_

Angelus stepped forward, ripping Xander's shirt open. He noticed rather belatedly that the fire under the cauldron was blue in the light of the moon. He gasped as Angelus' deceptively human-looking finger slit a strange sigil onto his chest. He abruptly yelped in pain as fire shot from the sigil through to his very being. He stared disbelievingly at Angelus that he would allow this pain inside of him, but the vampire only kissed him quiet.

_The door is open_

_The vessel is ready_

_What was once dormant_

_Is now ready to wake once more_

_Elder gods, we call to thee_

_Bless your son_

_And bring him forth!_

Angelus let the blood from his finger drop into the cauldron, which turned a mad garnet, frothing madly like an epileptic mid-seizure. Xander twisted and turned, the smoke from the fire and the fire in his chest combining to make him dizzy and crazy and delirious. Tears ran down his face as he felt something awakening within him, a darkness, a fire and an electricity that he'd fought so hard to keep at bay. But there was no fighting it now, there was only accepting its presence.

_Blood to blood I call to thee_

_Blood to blood return to me_

_Enter your child_

_And reunite the death stars once more!_

Drusilla screamed the end of the chant ecstatically, and Angelus cupped his finger in the burning water. Xander screamed in pain, and Angelus hurled a handful of the liquid into his mouth. A crack of thunder. A flash of lightning. The screams of five vampires turning to dust. The pain was all he knew. And then blackness.

_Hello, Alexander. We've been waiting for you…_

VIII. Sleeping Beauty the Prodigal Shatters the 100 Year Dream

_I'm not dead_

_Just floating_

_Right between the ink of your tattoo_

_In the belly of the beast we turn into_

_I'm not scared_

_Just changin'_

_Wrap me in a cigarette and a devilish smile…_

Xander woke up on their bed. He was alone in the room, he knew without being told or opening his eyes. He sat up quietly, and was not surprised when he noticed that there was a scar in the shape of the sigil that Angelus had cut into his chest. He whimpered at the memory of the pain that night, at the sound of vampires turning to dust. He needed to see Angelus, needed to ask him what had just happened to him. He was scared, he was pissed, he was so many things that he just didn't know how to compute anything anymore.

He could feel something smoldering within him, a new awareness. There was a sharpness to everything that he could not identify. He knew without a doubt that whatever Angelus and Drusilla had tried to do last night had worked. But what had happened to him? He couldn't summon up enough energy to be terrified. All he could do was wish that Angelus was here. He threw himself to his feet. Or at least he meant to; what he ended up doing was launching himself across the room and hitting the wall.

"OW! What the HELL?!" he screamed. He jumped. He should not have ended up ten feet away from his starting point. He ran to the door, somehow reaching it in two seconds. He pounded on it, hard, and screamed when he saw a dent in the door. "HELP!" he screamed. "ANGELUS!" He waited, but there wasn't a sound from outside the door. No one was coming. He was here alone.

Xander crumpled to his knees, a tear coursing down his cheek. He plucked it off of his cheek dully, staring at it in wonder. What was happening to him?

888

He heard, felt, sensed a presence outside of his door and more carefully ran to the door. He pulled it open, gratified when the lock clicked. "Angelus?" he asked hopefully, but it was only Lucien. "Oh," he said quietly, turning away.

"The master wishes you to eat," Lucien said quietly, staring at Xander oddly. Xander turned around eagerly.

"Where is he?" he demanded. But Lucien was still staring at him.

"Quit staring at me, dammit! Where is Angelus?" Xander screamed, beyond patience.

"He can't tell you what he doesn't know," said an icy cold voice from the door. Xander turned and saw a fiery redhead. She had an…_aura_ of cold rage, a vicious intent toward the world, and Xander was shot through with a sudden sense of foreboding. He knew without a doubt that this person wished him all the harm in the world, and he backed away from her. She threw him a cold sneer that had all his hackles rising. Lucien merely looked pissed.

"You are _not_ allowed in here, Jesse!" he snapped. "Take a fucking hint, you stupid whore, and go away."

The fury in her eyes could have melted him if she were a witch. Instead, she merely sashayed toward him. "Aren't you forgetting something, dear Lucien?" she whispered.

"What's that?" he asked irritably.

"This," she said with a laugh, and threw a bright red liquid in his face. He gasped, dropping to his knees, shaking.

"What have you done to me?!" he whispered in pain.

"Oh, you'll see," she said with a truly wicked smile. Then she whistled, and another vampiress walked in, already naked. Lucien looked up with a desperate look in his eyes, and leapt at her with a speed that made Xander dizzy to look at. Lucien was stripping clothes as he went, and Xander watched, stunned, as his straight-laced bodyguard threw his clothes off and went after her. Before he could say anything, Jesse had his arm in a surprisingly strong grip and had hauled him out the door.

"What did you do to him?" Xander asked, twisting in her grip.

"I hit him with one of the more powerful vampiric aphrodisiacs," she said with a smirk. "You wouldn't _believe_ what I had to do to get my hands on the stuff. The best thing about it all is that Angelus will kill him for letting you off guard before Lucien can even explain. That's yet _another_ thorn in my side I'm about to pluck with this," she said, looking quite proud of herself.

"What do you mean?" Xander asked nervously.

"Are you kidding?" she eyed him irritably, starting down the stairs. "Always swishing around like he owns the fucking universe, a vampire that acts like he's got a stake up his ass? Disgusting. We got rid of that when Spike killed the Anointed One, thank GOD," she said. Xander started to get really scared when he noticed there was no one on the main floor.

"Where is everybody?" he asked desperately.

"There's another beautiful part of my plan," Jesse said with a smirk. "See, the Slayer is a little touchy about the fact that her ex has you and is busy screwing your worthless little brains out. So a little tip-off from me and every vamp in the place is busy fighting a little army of the Slayer and her gang. Which you used to be a part of. With any luck, they'll all die, and that's even _more_ annoyances out of my way," she giggled.

"Let go of me!" Xander said, alarmed.

"Nuh-uh," she said flatly. "See, _you_ are just a worthless little mortal that isn't worth the shit I used to use as a mortal to wipe my ass. And what do I get for being better than you?! Fucked and tossed aside!" Spittle flew from her lips as she dragged him toward the quarters of the factory that he hadn't yet been allowed into. "_My_ love is up there fucking you day and night, when he has everything he could ever need down here?! Fuck that!"

"He wouldn't--" Xander yelled. He didn't even see the hand that slapped him, but before he knew it he was up against a wall with a deranged vampire holding him up by the throat.

"Wouldn't _what_?" she screamed. "Fuck me?! Are you fucking _kidding_ me?! He's a fucking _demon_, you ignorant little suck ass! He fucks a new mortal a night - it's how we _kill_, you worthless faggot! He's fucked me more than ten times since you've fucking _been_ here!" She punctuated each enunciated word with a punch to the face.

"STOP!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face.

"Aw, did the little queer get his hopes up?" Jesse sneered in his face. "Did he think that because Angelus Claimed him that the vampire actually _cared_ about him? HA!" she screeched, and slapped him across the face. "He doesn't give a shit! You are just a means to an end, a diversion while he made you loyal to him so he can kill the Slayer! You don't mean shit! You don't mean shit!"

Xander gave a hopeless sob, slumping down. She kicked him again for good measure. Pain was rocking through him as he curled in on himself. _Angelus…_he thought desperately. _Why?_ She pulled him up by his hair, but he didn't fight her. She sighed in disgust, dragging him after her.

"You wanna see what happens to mortals who he likes?" she demanded. "Look your fill!" With that, she threw him down a flight of stairs. Xander landed in a crumpled heap, screaming in pain as his arm snapped. She leapt down and landed nimbly next to him. He curled in on himself, the physical pain almost nothing to the emotional knives slicing through his heart with each venom filled word that the bitter, enraged, and psychotic vampiress slung at him. She grabbed his hair and forced him to look up.

There were four humans in the room. He could hear their heartbeats like thunder in his ears, the fragile sound of humanity. They were starving, beaten, tortured…and each one of them had some vampire's Claim scar on their neck. Just like his.

"No," he whispered. "No." Just like his. Just like his. He was nothing. Angelus was just using him. He was shit. Jesse was right. Why had he ever thought differently?

"Oh, yes, my dear. This is where you're gonna end up. If I were you, I'd just kill myself now, because these little bastards are too miserable to even try right now. We keep them for in house snacking and the occasional hot fuck when we're bored. That's gonna be you, sport. That's all Angelus needs you for."

Each word burst with a pulse of pain. Each word was a knife to his already-torn heart. "NO!" he screamed. "ANGELUS!"

Jesse smiled with satisfaction, revenged at last.

888

Ten miles away, Angelus was overseeing a desperate battle with the Slayer's little band of vampire hunters. How the _hell_ had Buffy known where to find them?! He thought desperately as he watched yet another minion get dusted. Thank hell's gods and demons that Xander was safe with Lucien, he thought fervently. He only had ten demons left to him, and Spike was back at the factory attending to Drusilla, still weak after the ceremony the night before.

His inattention cost him, however, as Buffy's small, knuckley fist slammed into his nose hard enough to break it if he'd still been human. As it was, he fell. Her foot slammed into his throat and another fist slammed his balls hard enough to make his eyes water. He yelled in pain as a stake slammed into his stomach, then was pulled out and slashed across his face.

He'd never seen Buffy fight this dirty before, and he was completely unprepared for the sheer savagery of her attack as she raked a pair of spiked brass knuckles across his face. It was as if she _knew_ that he'd be weak from the night before, and was going for ever weak point she could find.

"Where," she began, slamming a finger into the stake wound in his stomach and twisting, making him scream in pain. "Is," she continued, in a conversational tone of voice, squeezing his balls hard enough for him to scream again. "Xander?" she finished, head butting him hard enough to make him see stars. He desperately threw her off of him, but before he could get to his feet a shock of magic slammed him back down. Willow, her face as flushed as her hair, had finally grown a pair, it seemed; she was glaring at him with the fury of a Medusa as she raised her hand to strike again. Cordelia was there with a stake and a knife and a dark look on her face, with a new scar on her neck that he had no idea was there.

Giles was looking more like Ripper than ever, and had two knives with an expression on his face that he'd love to use them on him. He looked around and saw Oz finish off the last of his forces. He had one choice - to tell them where Xander was and find a way to get him back later, or die…

_ANGELUS!_ he heard in his head, a cry of such utter heart wrenching agony that he screamed in pain as he felt Xander sob in the back of his mind. He knew suddenly that Xander was in trouble, desperate trouble, and needed him now more than ever. Angelus gasped at the sheer emotional pain he could inexplicably feel radiating from the boy. Buffy took a surprised step backward. Angelus couldn't think straight; all he knew was that Xander needed him. He threw himself to his feet and hurled his coat at Willow. It blocked her spell, and he kicked Buffy in the face while she was distracted. She fell, which gave him enough space to turn and run.

"NO!" Cordelia yelled, and hurled a bottle of holy water at him as hard as she could. It turned out that the hidden depths of Cordy hid quite the arm, because it cracked the back of his head and he could feel it burning its way down his neck and back. He roared in agony and ran as fast as he possibly could, faster than a coward, and tried to desperately get Xander to feel him coming. He could shake off the pain. His boy needed him.

888

"GOD DAMN IT!" Buffy screamed, kicking a dumpster so hard that its side buckled. The others winced, but she didn't even notice. Instead, she screamed "Stay with them!" at Giles, grabbed Oz, and sprinted after Angel. The werewolf allowed her to carry him without a word of protest, both of them ignoring the others' distressed cries.

"Turn left!" Oz called to her from her shoulder as she ran. She turned, letting Oz's nose sniff out where she needed to go. Angelus was nearly finished. She could deal with the emotional pain later. All that mattered was getting to Xander and getting him back. That was all that _could_ matter at this point.

888

It was, as it all turned out, a little too late. Bad timing, bad judgment, who could tell. But Angelus had awakened the beast within beauty, given Sleeping Beauty the kiss of dark desire, and Xander was too far gone. He screamed as something dark and glorious spread its wings inside of him, slicing through ties that had long since held it, spreading through Xander's being like poison.

When Jesse turned to see him, Xander was floating in the air. She froze. His hair was blowing in an invisible breeze, and his eyes were red as blood. Ash colored _wings_ spread from his back, and she screamed as he turned his gaze on her. There was no mercy in his gaze, no…anything. His were dolls' eyes, predators' eyes. And she heard the wind outside, and she knew what it meant.

The Air Elemental had awakened within Xander Harris. Lightning spread from his fingers as he screamed in pleasure, in pain, in everything in between.

888

Angelus stopped in front of a burning factory. There was nothing inside that could possibly be alive; he'd seen twelve different lightning bolts arc down from the sky and hit the factory all at the same time. There was nothing left but ashes. He fell to his knees and screamed, loud as a banshee. Xander's name was on his lips as he collapsed, unconscious.

888

Buffy and the gang had just entered the library in defeat when they stopped stunned, to see Xander…or what looked like him, in a pair of leather pants. "Buffy…help me," he whispered, the wings he now wore flapping desperately a time or two. Then he slumped over, unconscious, the name Angelus on his lips.

_A/N: More than twenty fucking pages! TWENTY FUCKING PAGES! My god, this chapter ate my life. I'm so fucking sorry that it took me this long to update, you have no idea! So, with that out of the way, what do you think of this cliffhanger? Do you hate me? No? You love me for updating? Good…I have trained you well. ;) Don't worry, guys. I'm not gonna leave you hanging for another couple of months for this one - the next chapter will be shorter! I love you guys. But as you've just read the twenty pages (!!) that I've written, I'll leave you at this. See you next time!_


	17. XVI Collapsis

FYI: THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE WILL BE LONG! Consider yourselves warned.

A/N: Okay, so I really don't make promises that I don't intend to keep at some point, and I just realized that I had given that chapter update without giving the final play list like I had promised. So:

The Soundtrack to Passion XV is:

"The Phantom of the Opera" - Emmy Rossum & Gerald Butler (from the movie, not the musical)

"Everything Burns" - Anastacia (Featuring Ben Moody)

"All Around Me" - Flyleaf

"I Hate Everything About You" - Three Days Grace

"Your Disease" - Saliva

"Bring Me to Life" - Evanescence

"I'm Not Dead" - Pink

"Awakening" - The Damning Well (this didn't make it into the chapter, but I listened to it for the last bit while I wrote it).

And, just so you have a peak into my insane brain, I listen to music incessantly. I can't go a day without listening to _something_; seriously, I tried, and I broke before two in the afternoon. So when I set out to write this, naturally I made a play list. I shaved it down to the eighty minutes required for one CD, so in case any of you are interested, this is the soundtrack for the first fifteen chapters of Passion - download it!

the Passion of Angels and Demons Soundtrack Part I

Snow White Queen - Evanescence

Losing Grip - Avril Lavigne

All Around Me - Flyleaf

With You Reanimation Remix - Linkin Park

Pieces of a Dream - Anastacia

Missing "Anywhere But Home" Bonus Track - Evanescence

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Philistine

24 - Jem

I'm Not Dead - Pink

Believe - Disturbed

Like You - Evanescence

See Through - Megan McCauley

A Forrest - Lunar Click

Blood (Chocolate Version) - Sparklemotion

The Killing Moon - The Distants

Evil Angel - Breaking Benjamin

Overfire - THC

The Car Chase - James Horner

Everything Burns - Anastacia (Featuring Ben Moody)

Mad World Alternate Mix - Donnie Darko Soundtrack Bonus Track - Gary Jules

One note: "The Car Chase" comes from the fantastic movie _A Beautiful Mind_ - it's the theme that plays when Nash begins to fall victim to his schizophrenia. It's a very creepy and emotive piece and it's what plays in my head whenever Xander's dark side starts to rear its hidden head…Also, the song that plays during the actual Buffy episode "Passion" is called "Never an Easy Way" by Morcheeba, and it's a very good song (if you're into trip-hop) - the only reason it didn't make it onto the soundtrack is because it's like six and a half minutes long.

Now that I'm starting on the second leg of this epic life-devouring piece, I'll be making a second soundtrack that'll fit in for goddess knows how long.

NOTE ON THE SET UP OF THE STORY: Okay, so this thing is too long. It's really this grand thing that sweeps along in three parts, so that's how I've decided to play it. _The Passion of Angels and Demons_ will be the first part of a three part saga, so after another bunch of chapters, don't be surprised if the chapter ended on a cliffhanger and the story has been changed to complete. I'm not leaving you hanging, I'm just working on getting the second part out there.

ADDITIONAL IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've said this before, and I'll say it again. A new fan, _davinci_, left me a review wondering if I have this on the Live Journal community xangel. The answer is no because I don't have a live journal. It's complicated to work and I'm really not as techno-savvy as I like to appear. I do, however, constantly read everything on xangel and it was the first Xander/Angel slash site I had ever found. If anyone: repeat, ANYONE wants to pimp this thing out over there or find some way to link it, I'd be eternally grateful to have this thing on another site.

BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY PROGRAMMED AUTHOR'S NOTE.

A/N: This has been a fantastic experience to write, even if it is wearing out my brain. The thing that makes it all worthwhile is the reviews, the addition to lists of favorites/author alerts, and the encouragement to finish. I love this story, and I love this pairing, and I _am_ committed to finishing it.

Now, a note on this chapter: it's going to be much shorter than the last one, but it is important as it sets up the next chapter. This is going to be a sort of stream of conscious jump from one character to the next as they look at Xander's dramatic reappearance in the library and their thoughts on the night before. The battle that I sort of glossed over at the end will be fleshed out, and you'll see exactly what happened at the factory. For those of you who only read this for Angelus, I am not sure if he'll make his reappearance in this chapter or not. But, think about it: Buffy and the gang beat the _shit_ out of him - give him a little R&R, will ya?

And I do have one last important note: for those of you who are not fans of Buffy (the character), well, I am. True, especially in the last season, she can step way out of line, but for the most part I think she's a smart, caring, brave character who keeps fighting despite the mountain of shit that the Hellmouth vomits on her daily. I really don't agree with fics that participate in Buffy Bashing or make everyone very OOC just so that they _can_ justify Buffy Bashing. I won't be doing that in this fic, ever, so don't look for it. No offense.

As always, this chapter is dedicated to my readers. You guys are the reason writers write. Thank you all.

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter XVI_

Collapsis

BUFFY

When Xander reappeared, I think that I collapsed. I remember sinking to the floor and just staring at his unconscious body without a word. Months. Months of not seeing, not knowing, of suspicions and pain and guilt, and here he was, asking for my help. Months. I started shaking at that point. I'd built a wall around myself since his disappearance, a necessary icy distance that I'd had to use as a defense against the world. I was the Slayer, and Angel, my biggest mistake, was running around using my inability to kill him as a cover for kidnapping one of my best friends.

Clearly my emotions had been getting the best of me. Giles had been worried, of course; I had stopped acting like me and started acting more like Kendra. He tried to hide it when I poured myself into my training, when all I wanted to read were books on demons where once I had only wanted to shop and to read Cosmo. But where had that gotten me? Whatever I could do to make myself strong, to keep my friends alive and _animals_ like Angelus dead, I would do. I had committed myself to killing Buffy and keeping only the Slayer alive.

Funny how much it hurt to have Xander's face break that wall of ice. Funny how much it hurt to _feel_ again. Feel how much it had hurt to attack Angelus as I had last night. How much it hurt to see the enormous bruises and injuries indicative of a severe beating marking Xander's once-golden and happy face. I had concentrated so hard on making myself strong enough to get Xander back that I had never actually thought what would happen when I _did_ get him back. Angel had once asked me, in a happier time, what I thought of my future. All I could answer him at the time was that I saw him.

Thinking like that led to…well, apparently with the ice gone I had lost the ability to cynically analyze that night. Now all there was was the pain. Funny, how seeing Xander could fill me with such joy and such sorrow, all at once. Maybe I was getting a taste of what being an adult was, at that point. I would think later how awful it was in today's world how sorrow was the only way to grow up - otherwise you still stupidly assume that grown-ups were never children and Peter Pan actually existed.

You never question things like that when you're a kid. You can live forever, and no one ever dies, and everyone can just fly away to Never Never Land and be alright. God is up in Heaven and there is no pain, and He…She, whatever, always has Her eye on you. I remember thinking in that moment that I would have given anything to feel like that again.

Instead I threw my feelings into that black corner of my mind and rushed forward, Slayer first, and picked Xander's surprisingly heavy body up and laid him on top of the library table, sweeping the lamps to the floor. Snyder could pay for them later.

I had to lay him on his left side, because his right arm looked badly broken. But I couldn't lay him on his back, because there were huge black fucking _wings_ that had broken out of his back and there was blood trickling out of the cracks they'd ripped in Xander's back. Okay. Xander has wings. Deal and move on.

He had broken ribs and bruises all over his face and body, and his pants (Angelus' pants, I noted indifferently) were ripped and singed from the fire. Wings or not, we needed to get him medical attention, and fast. "Giles," I started, turning to him. He nodded tersely, not an emotion showing on his face. Giles had been becoming more and more like the Ripper we had all briefly and unpleasantly been introduced to when Ethan Rayne had come back to town. I also had learned exactly how much Giles had come to regard all of us as his children. He'd do anything to take care of us - if there was any way to heal Xander, Giles would find it.

I could trust him to do that. And then…it was like the weight of the world landed on my shoulders as it all seemed to hit me in one awful moment. My legs buckled and I slumped into a chair and finally, _finally_ started sobbing as I had not allowed myself for three and a half months.

GILES

I watched Buffy crumple and I couldn't do anything about it. Not that if I could do anything to stop it I would; she'd been holding this back for a quarter of a year, and if she didn't get it out now, she likely would bottle it up till it exploded at a moment that might get her killed. When Willow started for Buffy, I motioned her back. The redhead nodded slightly, her lips quivering as she looked at Xander. Willow had come through this gauntlet with an extraordinary show of strength that I had not credited her for. She had tried as hard as she could to step into Xander's absence and take care of the gang, no matter her youth.

These young people had been through far too much.

I finally turned and looked at Xander, allowing myself to catalogue his injuries. With each that I saw, my rage grew until my eyes blurred with moisture. Angelus had much to answer for - too much. These children were like my children; I'd cared for them and shepherded them and watched them as time and again they banded together and fought the forces of darkness by choice, because they felt it was the right thing to do. This demon, this _creature_ had captured the best of each of them when he'd taken Xander and used it to hurt them.

I knew at that moment fully and completely that if Buffy did not kill Angelus, I would, and I would do it gladly. For all that he'd done to Buffy, to Jenny, to Xander, to every innocent that he met and the torture that he had caused, the misery. True, all vampires caused suffering, but Angelus was a true torturer; he caused more grief and misery than any demon and he took more pleasure in it than man or beast could remember.

Willow had said when Xander disappeared that he had gone willingly - I had to wonder at that moment more than ever what the conniving demon had told this innocent, harmless, and indeed naïve boy to make him go in the first place. I looked at the wings that Xander was sporting, and thought of the eerie color that had faded from Xander's normal chocolatey eyes when he'd seen us. What the hell did Angelus _do_ to you? I thought agonizingly.

CORDELIA

Some say that with suffering comes wisdom. I say, bullshit. Wisdom is something you earn by learning from your mistakes. With suffering comes sorrow, and with sorrow comes self-knowledge. I still sometimes look back on my life before Buffy came to Sunnydale and think _Good God - was that _me_?_ I'd had my whole life mapped out for me, you know? Be young and pretty and rich forever, and marry some young handsome rich guy, and have beautiful rich children - did I mention rich? I'd be happy.

Then there had been vampires, and then I'd started to get this annoying Daphne complex and get kidnapped once every other week. Only, instead of Prince Charming coming to my rescue, I had Buffy, this irritating little pretty blonde that somehow in her honesty was everything that I wasn't. Herself. True, I have a habit of blunt honesty - what's the point of subtlety, really? If you're going to say something to someone, you can at least have the respect and self-respect to say what you mean to their face instead of talking behind their back like a cowardly bitch.

I may be a rich bitch, but I'm not a coward.

So sure, I started to help to fight the good fight. Honestly, at that point in my life, I had no idea _why_ I was helping these total freakazoids fight their creepy night battles. Now I know better. Now I know that I was looking for love, in the way that I looked for it by campaigning so hard to be the most popular girl…well, ever (behold my success, I must say). Some little part of me had stood up and said I want to do the right thing and help people. And then maybe I'll be something other than Cordelia Chase, Sunnydale High School Queen. Maybe then I'd be something more like Cordelia Chase extraordinaire. Maybe I'd actually earn _respect_ instead of enamourment. If that's even a word. Fuck it, I said it and that makes it a word.

So then, of course, in choosing (subconsciously - yes, I know what that word means, and thank you and fuck you Freud for enlightening me on mommy and daddy issues) to fight for truth and all that good crap, I started to actually notice _people_. Like how all of my 'friends' are fakes who only do what I do because they wish that they were as cool as me (_as __**if**_, Harmony, you completely unoriginal little kowtowing slut), and how all of Buffy's friends were actually more like her family because they'd all die for each other because of love.

So yeah, sometimes I'm a little jealous of Bitchy the Vampire Layer. Sue me.

So, just to follow the shit path, I started to notice Xander Harris. Like no matter how immature he was he would always tell you the truth because that's what he thought was right. Like no matter how many crimes he committed against the fashion world as a whole, he had the cutest puppy-dog eyes of doom look ever. And then I kissed him, and I found out that his mouth is good at a lot of things. Thank god I never kissed him again after that, because I started to notice how he looked at Angel, after that, and I realized that a) Xander was probably closeted gay, and lusting after his best friend's boyfriend (But then again, if he _was_ gay, who could resist ogling Angel? Come on now, in all honesty, no one deserves to _that_ good-looking) and b) that I had no desire to use this knowledge against him, as I might once have. I realized that I would have felt _bad_ about it.

Self-awareness comes slowly, even for someone as truly superior as me (and no, I'm not being superficial at all: I am the Queen. It's just who I am, and since the crown _does_ fit, just shut and listen), and when I started to notice that far from being a useless nerd, Willow was actually a hidden beauty with a talent for cheering you up when you didn't want to be cheery. And that Oz…well, Oz had always been cool in a weird Zen sort of way.

It was after Xander had vanished and it was likely that Buffy's ex-lover who'd turned evil after she'd lost her virginity to him had taken Xander, that I realized that I felt truly sorry for Buffy. And that I was her friend. And that I was a Scooby. At one point this might have freaked me out, but at that moment I had realized that I had actual friends for the first time in my _life_. So when a vampire came at Willow with a knife I threw her out of the way and ended up in the hospital with a nick on my neck.

Willow still goes out of her way to talk to me every day - like maybe she felt like she had to pay me back for it by being more of my friend. But that was okay with me, because I knew that she was trying to hold the gang together after Xander…and I did all that I could to help her. So when a vampire had come up to my house one night about three days before we got Xander back and said she wanted Angelus gone, I took her at her word and got the information out.

And now Xander was laying in something like a coma with big fucking _wings_ (I'd say this was freaky, because it so totally _was_, but he had attractive wings, for all of that - they were huge and a soft ashy grey color, the color of a sky right after a long, cooling thunderstorm, and were made up of…well, I don't know if they're feathers, but they looked soft) coming out of his back and enough injuries to make Florence Nightingale wince.

But since I know that you're all hanging off of my every word, you'll notice how I had said that I was suddenly noticing things.

I wondered if I was the only one that heard him whisper "Angelus" right before he passed out.

WILLOW

We'd all grown up. We'd all become something different. A family forged together by love and battle and desperation. We'd accepted Cordelia (and how weird was that, still, after three months?) in after Xander was taken, but it hadn't been an occasion of joy like it should have been. No one seemed to notice me walk behind the counter and sink underneath it. Buffy was sobbing loudly (thank the Goddess; she hadn't let herself since it had happened) enough that I knew my own tears could be hidden.

The whole hell of the thing was that I could figure out if I was crying from happiness or exhaustion or fear at what Xander had become. I'd known _something_ was in the library when we'd come back after Oz had gone home to patch up his arm, because I'd _felt_ it. I felt the air bend to its will, I felt power like nothing I'd ever imagined feeling before. I knew also that the entire Underworld of Sunnydale and perhaps beyond had felt it too. It was scary and transcendent all at the same time.

And it was coming out of my best friend, my brother growing up.

Goddess, we'd fought so hard to find him, to bring him back. We'd grown up in a matter of weeks instead of years, and there had been nothing to keep us together but our own determination. And to have it end like this? When the factory had exploded, we'd all been so sure that he was gone. None of us had said anything, we'd only left to lick our wounds and to try and figure out a way to kill Angelus, just to make sure. Truthfully, I wasn't sure that Buffy would be able to handle killing Angelus, no matter how icy she'd made herself.

But Buffy wasn't the only one who'd grown so numb these months. We all had. I had had to hack the school's computers and give Buffy passing grades in all her classes to make sure that she wasn't held back a year because she was pouring so much into her training. The old me would have tried to get her to study as well. But I was something, someone else now. I had to be. I had to be strong. Because just because we had Xander back did not, in any sense of the word, mean that this was over. Whatever it was that Xander had…_become_ needed to be dealt with. And I was worried that I wouldn't have the strength to stand when it was, finally, over.

ANGELUS

I sat on my throne, of sorts, and stared down at what was left of my kingdom. And I stared at the one that had brought it down.

Jesse stood alone, despite the fact that she was missing half of an arm and all of her hair. She looked like she'd been put through something that even _I_ wouldn't have been capable of putting her through. I couldn't summon the anger that should be there, oddly enough. I felt only ice. Xander was gone. My boy, my Claimed, my own, was gone. And here she stood, the one that had started it all.

Maybe it was that twinge of conscience that Xander had somehow managed to inject into my mind that made me feel sorry for her, this creature that had wanted his love so desperately and had concocted a scheme worthy of Darla to get it. Ultimately, if she'd launched her plan a day earlier, it probably would have worked. It had been her idea to feed Lucien a vampiric aphrodisiac, and, whilst he was distracted by a newly made fledgling that Jesse had made in secret, she would lead Xander down to where the human pets were kept. When my boy saw the humans that I kept, some of them I'd enjoyed at times, he would naturally grow so horrified and betrayed that he'd run as far away as possible. Maybe even kill himself.

The fact of the matter was that it would have worked, had Xander not exploded in a way she had no way of foreseeing. So here she stood, calmly awaiting my judgment. True, I felt sorry for her in a way I had not been expecting. But she had taken away my boy. I turned to the three minions I had left.

"Take her out and stake her to the ground, that she may watch her final sunrise." It was the ceremonial way that one killed one's greatest enemies, and it was the last respect I could afford her. Maybe in another time I could have kept her. She didn't even struggle, to her credit.

Spike and Drusilla stepped out of the shadows, awaiting my orders - though I had none. Both were burned and needed to be healed. There was nothing else for it. We _all_ needed to rest and recuperate. And then I would launch my counterattack against the Slayer. But what the hell had happened?

For it was the last stroke of genius to Jesse's plan that had proven my undoing. Buffy had become something that I had not expected. I am a careful planner by nature; something that gives me an edge over most run-of-the-mill demons. Every move I make against an enemy I make with the weight one gives to a chess piece. So when I had started to psychologically attack Buffy, I had carefully calculated exactly how much stress I could place on a stronger-then-most Slayer's mind before it snapped and became focused on my destruction.

But when I had become enthralled with Xander…I had judged what he was doing to me and tried to keep it at bay. I had forgotten what the lack of his presence would do to the Slayer's gang. And apparently it had forged them into a weapon that had slammed into me from a front that I had not been aware of.

When a minion, some nameless fledge that still had dirt on its funeral outfit that it had never bothered to change, had come bursting into the hall of the factory, screeching "The Slayer is coming! She's killed three already!" I had leapt to my feet.

"All of you with me!"

Foolish, of course, but exactly what Jesse had been counting on. I was still weakened from the ceremony, and had had to separate myself from Xander for fear of screwing up the spell. It had killed me, of course; I'd heard my boy's cries from the chamber in both my ears and my heart. So, already on edge, I'd raced into a fight to try and fight Xander out of my mind. This would be easy, I told myself.

What a fool I was.

I found them about a half a mile from the factory, and watched Buffy brutally dust two more vampires as the whole group rounded a corner to head deeper toward the factory. I sent ten to attack from the front whilst I led a cadre of fourteen from the rear. The Scooby Gang had pulled itself to a halt, pulling out various weapons as they stood their ground.

"Ah, Buff…I know that you haven't had it so good since I left, but this is borderline stalking. I'm worried," I taunted from behind her. Naturally, I hoped to engage her in banter as she tried to attack. Instead, she'd turned around.

"A dildo would have been better than that," she said coldly. In fact, her entire aura radiated ice that matched the bitter fury in her eyes as I realized that the Scoobies had formed a protective circle around Willow. The witch.

"Stop her!" I roared, but it was a little too late. The witch straightened holding something that I could not bear to look at, that burned like…the sun. She was using Kraus' Sun Spell! "Run!" I screamed, but it was too late. She launched it at my front line like it was a battering ram all on its own, which it may as well have been. She fell to her feet, depleted, but she'd achieved Buffy's goal. All ten screamed in pain and fear and god knows what as they exploded in a fiery rain of ashes.

"NOW!" Buffy screamed, and launched herself toward me with murder in her eyes and nothing else. Cordelia rounded from behind Giles and without hesitation launched a bottle of Hell-Fire at the nearest vampire, burning it to cinders as Giles swung an axe and beheaded my biggest, Aaron. Buffy kicked two others out of her way to throw a punch, which I dodged, and she - expecting my move, somehow - kicked me in the face as I turned away and slammed a hunting knife into my back. When I went down, it freed her up to slay two more and have Oz take out another one with his crossbow.

I had, what, five left? I was down, wounded, and she pounced on me like a wild animal. The torture that that girl rained on me was…unbelievable. I managed to get away from them by pure luck. Racing toward that factory, all I could think of was Xander. And yet if I'd managed to think of anything else, I might have felt the wave of power that exploded. The sky darkened as if it had been bruised by an angry god, and lightning fell down in a wave from the angry sky. Twelve bolts hit the factory, all at once, lighting it up for one second like a Christmas toy. And then it had exploded, fire tinged with the blue of burning ozone slamming into me and tossing me thirty feet to land in an abandoned building.

That may have saved my life, but when I'd emerged to stare at the ruin of my fortress and what had surely held Xander's ruined body, I almost wished that I could have died. Instead I followed my senses and found Spike and Drusilla, who were mangled but thankfully alive, and I'd gathered the two or three vampires that I had left and ran like a coward. And now here I was, in some dank cave outside of Sunnydale, watching my enemy and one-time paramour being taken out to burn.

I would have Buffy's head on a wall for eternity, and the bodies of her compatriots to show all that no Slayer crossed me. Ever.

JENNY

I stared in shock at what was left of Xander on the library table through a window. I had tried to ignore the burst of power. I had tried to pretend that it wasn't what it was. But I couldn't. My teacher had been proven right. Fighting down tears at the betrayal that I knew I would have to make, again, I ran from the library as fast as I could.

I knew now that this was my destiny: to betray my friends and lover, over and over again. And somehow, hopefully, save the world while I was at it.

A/N: Okey-day! So two chapters in two days, so I hope you guys won't be too offended when the next chapter is longer and takes longer to post. But I do feel sorry for Jenny - it's really not her fault. Not that I'll tell you what's gonna happen next, because that would ruin the cliffhanger! HAH!

Seriously, though, I got my first three reviews on the update at like three in the morning, so it means a lot to me that fans want to read it that early in the morning. I hope that you guys are liking the ride, because it's gonna start getting faster!


	18. XVII Part I Snow White Queen

A/N: So, I noticed that I've been recommended on the xangel LiveJournal community, which is pretty cool, by the way, and someone commented that there were such large gaps between chapter updates that they'd not really checked in a while. And they are definitely right; it's one of the things that I feel bad about. So, in that spirit, I am going to try and notify you guys before there's going to be another large gap in between chapter updates.

In that spirit again: My grandfather, who lives in California and who I haven't seen in a little while, is flying out to visit us and I'm going on an at least week-long trip to take him places. So I've decided to give you guys at least another chapter before I leave. That way, I can feel less guilty about ending this on another cliffhanger, which I'm likely to do. Don't you guys just _love_ those?

So, as you might have guessed by Jenny's behavior at the end of the last chapter, some of the prologues are going to come back in this, pretty quick now. And while I'm writing out of cannon at this point, I'm trying to make the characters as non-OOC as possible, particularly Buffy (with this chapter, I'm trying to capture how cold she tried to make herself in the seventh season episode where she had to go try and kill Anya).

As always, thanks to my reviewers, and to all those who have gone out of the way to read this story (to my reviewers: you might get a laugh if you notice someone left me a review that said I should put a slash warning in the summary - the review was left on the third chapter, and in the first part of the warning on the very first prologue, I warned there would be slash. Stupid people are funny!). You guys are the ones who keep me going - and thanks in particular to Davinci, who pimped me out on LiveJournal.

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XVII, Part I

Snow White Queen

_You belong to me_

_My snow white queen_

_There's nowhere to run_

_So let's just get it over_

_Soon, my love, you'll see_

_You're just like me_

_Don't scream anymore, my love_

_Cause all I want is you…_

"Snow White Queen" by Evanescence

Buffy was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged tiger fresh from the wild who was longing to hunt and sink its fangs into fresh prey. Walking kept her centered, kept her from thinking. She counted her steps, so that all that was in her thoughts was numbers. Funny how much counting could calm her down when she hated math with a fiery passion. _And it's not even really my fault_, she thought, _that Mr. LoRocco is the most boring teacher ever - who else but Willow can pay attention to _that_ suckfest_?

She heard Giles and some random guy talking in low voices up in the bedroom of Giles' apartment, and resumed counting. When they'd calmed down in the library long enough to think analytically about Xander, Willow and Cordelia had been in complete accord when they stated that Xander wouldn't want to wake up at home without his friends, so they'd brought him to Giles, as the rest of them had parents at home.

"But what about getting him a doctor?" Buffy had asked worriedly, looking at Xander's wounds. Cordelia shot her a withering look.

"What, and get busy flashing your tits so as to not have to explain the expansive _wing span_?" she'd asked acidly. Okay, so Cordelia might have changed a lot since hanging out with the Scooby Gang, but her tongue was still perfectly capable of slashing gaping wounds in both body and ego.

"Well then what do _you_ suggest, princess?" Buffy'd snapped back. Cordelia thought for a moment, and then whipped out her cell phone. "Who are you gonna call? Neiman Marcus for a pair of designer smocks?" Buffy had asked in disgust.

"No, Tae Kwon Do Barbie," Cordelia said witheringly. "I'm calling my father. He knows people who keep all kinds of medical crap off the radar."

There wasn't a lot to say to that one, so Buffy had subsided, trying to not snap and laugh hysterically at the rather mortified glances Giles was tossing in their direction. They'd carefully transported Xander in the back of the Gilesmobile while everyone else crammed into Cordelia's sporty red thing. Willow had taken the back seat and Cordelia's cell phone as she tried to call Oz, who was on his way, and Jenny, who was apparently unreachable. Based on the new truce they'd forged with her, Buffy had refrained from commenting on the computer teacher's absence. She had a feeling that Willow had tossed her a thankful look when she'd hung up the phone, which she'd tried to ignore, feeling a little guilty.

Well, for the love of god, she was only seventeen years old! Somehow she thought that being that young _and_ the Slayer _and_ losing her virginity to the love of her life on her birthday only to have him revert back to the most evil and vicious vampire, well, _ever_, entitled her to a little bit of teenage pettiness. And she couldn't help but feel that if Jenny had confided to Giles they could have found a way to prevent what had happened.

When they'd gotten back to Giles' apartment, they'd all laid Xander out on his stomach on the bed so that they could look at his back. Worryingly, it was the wings that were apparently causing the most damage - his back had been ripped open when they'd emerged, and it wasn't healing the way it should because the new growth was keeping the blood from clotting and forming scabs to stop the bleeding. When Cordelia's guy, some young cute-in-a-preppy-way blond had showed up, he'd stared at the wings for a moment before shrugging and starting work. Willow said he looked like Doogie Houser, which Cordelia had thankfully refrained from commenting on.

And so here she was, back and forth, back and forth. Willow was in the kitchen bringing Oz up to speed while she made everyone tea (when Willow got nervous she made food and drinks, even when no one was hungry. It was thing. They didn't talk about it much anymore because it made her blush redder than her hair). Cordelia was sitting quietly on Giles' uncomfortable desk chair, watching Buffy pace.

"I'm scared."

Buffy stopped, turning to look at her. Cordelia looked rather haggard, which was weird because she had a knack for walking into a hurricane and still emerging without a misplaced hair. It was one of those admissions that Cordelia would sometimes give out, something that she admitted to that might be interpreted as weakness from the invulnerable Queen of Sunnydale and Surrounding Environs that she usually acted the part of.

"I thought that somehow everything would be better and back to normal when we got Xander back, but, somehow, it's worse. Isn't that horrible?" she whispered, sounding very young and very small. It was times like these when the weight of being the Slayer fell down hard on Buffy's shoulders, and she had to remind herself that she'd been forced to grow old long before her time.

"No, it isn't horrible. We wanted him back because we needed the old Xander back, the one that made us all feel better before the bad stuff happened. We didn't want to see that he could get hurt, too, because that just makes the whole thing worse," Buffy said, dragging a barstool next to Cordelia and plopping down. "Now it just makes us all remember that we're humans, too."

"You sound like Giles," Cordelia said gloomily.

"I guess that means premature wrinkles," Buffy said, just to bait her a little. They shared a shudder, two beauties bonding over one of skin's worst attacks - wrinkles had to be the worse. You could always die your gray hair, but wrinkles entered Botox land. Buffy didn't miss the grateful smile that Cordelia gave her. Buffy grinned back. It made her feel like Xander, somehow, managing to cheer one of her friends up with a joke. Tears started to well up in Buffy's eyes as she fought suppress them.

Cordelia started to say something, but the footsteps coming down the stairs stopped them both as they looked up to see Giles and the nameless doctor coming down the stairs. Her heart stopped at the grave look in Giles' eyes.

"Giles…" she started quietly. Willow and Oz hurried out of the kitchen, Oz's hand placed comfortingly on Willows arm as his girlfriend's lips started to quiver.

"We taped up his ribs and set his arm," the doctor said. "Everything else should be healing fine…but the wings…even for Sunnydale that's a little freaky. They aren't healing around the wounds on his back like they should. One of you's a witch," he continued, taking his hat off to reveal two little red horns. Buffy jerked up, but Giles shook his head at her. "I can feel the magic. You might be able to slow down the bleeding, but you guys need to find out what happened to him exactly to stop this."

The demon looked at Willow and seemed to be saying something with his eyes. Buffy turned to Willow, saw a suspicion confirmed and a darkening of her friend's eyes. "Wait," Buffy started to say, but the demon doctor had already donned his hat, picked up his bag, and left before she could say anything.

"Willow? What's going on?" Cordelia demanded.

"Nothing," Willow said softly. "Or at least not anything I can figure out. I need to go take care of Xander," she finished firmly and headed upstairs before anyone could say anything else. Giles sighed as he watched her go, and nodded to Oz to follow her. The taciturn werewolf walked upstairs after her without a backward glance.

"We need to head back to the school. There should be magic books there that can help Willow with the spells she needs," he said, grabbing his keys. There was a hunch to his shoulders that told Buffy that there was more on his mind than he was saying, but she didn't say anything. They all needed time to work through this, but right now they needed to be more focused on Xander than anything.

"And then research," she said, walking towards the door. "If whatever did this to Xander tells us how to stop the bleeding then it's up to us to find it." Cordelia nodded and headed after them. Buffy didn't protest. Neither she nor Cordelia was exactly hot stuff when it came to researching the latest Sunnydale creature feature, but she knew that now Xander's life might depend on it, those books were about to get their metaphorical asses handed to them.

**888**

Jenny Calendar was trying to meditate. It wasn't working; you had to put yourself in a frame of mind to relax in order to ease your mind. Nothing was working - she'd had a little wine, lit some scented candles, popped in a waterfall/lagoon recording, tensed each of her muscles and relaxed them individually. It was the tension in her mind that was keeping her…well, tense. She sighed heavily. "Shit," she murmured.

The whole fact of the matter was that this was the second time in less than a year that she'd wanted to turn her back on her training, her heritage, and follow her heart. She knew that Buffy carried the weight of the world on her young shoulders, but sometimes at the end of the day it felt like she was helping to shoulder the Slayer's burden. And she knew that she was going to have to go through with this, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. To make what she had seen untrue.

But it _was_ true, and as her uncle Tomas had taught her, no amount of wishing the truth were untrue would make the pain of the truth go away. And she'd seen what she'd seen, felt what she'd felt. And no matter how she felt, it had terrified her. She knew the implications of Angelus' actions, better than the vampire ever could. The sleeper had awoken, as _they_ had always feared that he would. And what could stand it Its way?

It wasn't fair. That was true; it wasn't Xander's fault any more than Angelus' becoming unleashed was Buffy's fault. But what's done is done, and now innocent people would have to pay for the consequences…_again_. Magic. That's what this all boiled down to, really; Jenny found herself wishing that she could cast it out of herself, that she'd never begun to train Willow into the sacred mysteries. _Blasphemy, of course_, she thought with a humorless smile. _If my teachers could read my mind now, what would they think?_

But that wasn't any use to wonder about, because most of the time Jenny thought that _they_ had no emotions. And yet it wasn't their fault either. They'd been given a sacred trust, handed down through the ages of time, both human and daemonic. She couldn't very well turn her back on an encroaching apocalypse, could she?

For if the Fhôghlaim é a Stoírm was indeed awake inside of Xander, and controlling him…then there would only be one place that Xander would want to go, one task that he would want to do. And then the Stoírm Daemon would cast Xander aside like a rag doll, probably kill him. No, the Coven would do this as painlessly and efficiently as possible; likely ending the threat forever.

Then, of course, she'd have to run. Far away. For even if the Slayer and her friends (and Rupert, Jenny thought with a flash of grief like a knife to her heart) never found out her involvement, she would never be able to lie to them about this. Not after everything they'd been through; it would be too much. She'd accept their condemnation, and she would leave. Perhaps she would return to the Isle. There, she could learn to forget. And she would never leave. Ever.

This world hurt far too much.

**888**

"_Son of a __**bitch**_!" Buffy snarled, throwing down what felt like the 300th book she'd tried that night. It was already two in the morning; her mother was going to be breathing down her neck like the Hounds of Hell itself if she didn't call Willow at Giles' and tell her to round robin their parents. _Again_.

"Buffy," Giles began disapprovingly.

"This is _useless_, Giles!" Buffy cut him off. "Look at this stack! We must've been through more than fifty books _each_ already, and the only thing we've found is how to slow down the bleeding! We need to help him _now_, Giles!" She fell back in her chair with a thump and buried her head in her hands.

"I am aware that it's slow going, but we need to focus on the fact that we do have him back," Giles said gently. "No matter how frustrating, let's use that to energize us to search for a cure, Buffy," he finished, putting his hand on her head. With anyone else it would have felt patronizing, but a Giles Head Pat was usually just as good as a hug. Buffy gave him a small smile, but she still felt deep in her heart that this wasn't enough. Willow had used the small healing magicks they'd been able to find to slow down the bleeding and to fix some of the bruises (she'd said that on a rather hopeful note that Xander's ribs and arm seemed well on their way to knitting), but his back was looking worse as the hours ticked past.

And again Cordelia came through when she came out of the stacks with her usual bluntness.

"Sorry, Giles, but Buffy's right on this one. This _is_ useless," Cordelia said with her usual grace. She sat down across from them and fixed Giles with a hard stare.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked curiously. Cordelia sometimes had a way of cutting through the bullshit that made her valuable in planning sessions. And if she could think of way to help Xander that was quicker and cut through all of these useless tomes, or at least gave them a clue where to look…she'd take anything at this point.

"Well, we don't know what happened to him, so that gives us zero idea where to look, right?" Cordelia started. Buffy and Giles nodded. "So, who do we know that _knows_ what happened to Xander because they did it in the first place?" Realization dawned on Buffy and Giles, but while Buffy began to consider this, Giles leapt on Cordelia with a fury that reminded Buffy of the time that Giles had seen Ethan in the library.

"Attack Angelus? After giving him more than twenty-four hours to recuperate from our attack, with Willow and Oz unable to aid us? Have you completely lost your mind?" he snapped icily. "First, we have no idea where to look, and second off we never confirmed that he survived the blast. We also have no idea if he or Spike or Drusilla are alive, or if they have more vampires that we were unable to take out. So what is your suggestion? Knock on factory doors?"

"Well, at least _I'm_ suggesting getting proactive about it," Cordelia snarled, leaping to her feet with a passion on her face that not a lot of subjects could put there. "We have to do _something_, Giles, because I seem to be the only one to accept that fact that the bleeding is that bad! He could _die_, Giles! So don't stand there in your tweedy little book-dusting ass and tell me that I'm stupid!" she yelled, with a fury that would have quelled Hitler. Giles looked rather startled, and Buffy was staring at Cordelia with her mouth open.

The silence was shattered by the ringing phone. Buffy leapt across the table to grab it, using her Slayer speed to beat Cordelia and Giles to it (who were both elbowing each other out of the way like three-year-olds, anyway). "Willow?" she asked eagerly.

"Buffy…" Willow whimpered into the phone.

"Will? What's happened? What's wrong?" Buffy demanded, whipping a stake out of her belt. If Willow was in trouble, Buffy was going to be there faster than the fucking _wind_, because she'd slit her wrists if she lost Angel and Xander and Willow all in one fucking _year_.

"It's Xander…" Willow whispered. "There are…Buffy…he's got…_horns_," Willow sniffed frantically.

"What?" Buffy said incredulously.

"They just snapped out of his forehead, and now he's bleeding there, too. His nails are going all wonky too…I think that a demon is possessing him, or he's becoming one, Buffy! Xander's becoming a demon!" Willow screeched into the phone.

"Calm down, Will," Buffy said quietly, with a calm that she didn't feel. "I know what I have to do. I'll call you." Before Willow could say anything, Buffy hung up the phone. She turned to Giles and Cordelia, both of whom were standing about two feet from her, trying to hear what Willow said through the phone.

"Well, we always said that Xander was too horny for his own good," Buffy told them, and started giggling hysterically. She started laughing, hard, wheezing for breath, tears streaming down her face as she buried her head in her hands on the main desk/counter.

"Great. The Slayer's lost it. We're all gonna die," Cordelia said philosophically.

"Buffy…" Giles said gently, as if to a child. "What's happened?"

"Xander has horns," Buffy whispered, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "He has horns, and they haven't stopped bleeding either. He's turning into a demon, Giles. Our Xander…he's turning into a demon…and it's killing him."

Dead silence, the kind of which you only hear at a funeral when the officiator asks everyone to take their seats so the ceremony can begin. Giles had jerked away from her when she said it, as if to shake away the truth of her words. Cordelia sank slowly into a chair, staring at nothing.

"He is _not_ going to die," Buffy said flatly, her voice echoing in the empty library. She turned and headed for her bag and the library cage. "He's going to live if I have to kill every single demon in Sunnydale to keep him that way," she vowed, stripping on her way in. She dug in her bag and took out a pair of leather pants, reaching into a locker in the library cage for some heavy-duty boots. She put on a black tank top that she covered with a form-fitting leather jacket on top. The leather would protect her where she was going.

She put two of her specially carved, wicked-sharp stakes in the sleeves of the jacket, where they had sewn holsters. She put on the silver cross that Angel had given her once, long ago, in happier times when she'd still been trying so hard to run from being the Slayer. She didn't flinch at the memory; she let it fill her with even more anger, anger at God, at the Angel of Destiny, whoever had decided to fuck her life over long ago. The anger made her hard. Cold. Strong. She put a boot knife in her left boot, a bottle of holy water in her coat pocket, and finished it off with a crossbow loaded with five bolts. Her fist would do the rest.

When she turned back to the library, she ignored Giles' instinctive flinch back from the ice in her eyes, in her heart. There was no more Buffy left tonight. Tonight, she was the Slayer.

And the Slayer was _pissed_.

**888**

Willow frantically finished the healing spell, again, that she'd been repeating over Xander's prone body for the last three hours. As before, though slightly weaker, a light blue light glazed over Xander's body for a few moments, then faded, as evanescent as the morning mist. She knew that it was working; his ribs were completely healed, there were no bruises, and she knew his arm was better as well. But the dark, dark blood dripping slowly from the horrendous wounds on his back was as constant as before, and the new wounds on his forehead slowly dripped a red paint that spread over Giles' pillow like a demented Picasso.

When Xander had last moaned in pain in his…sleep, for lack of a better term, she'd opened his mouth slightly and watched some blood flow out of his mouth as a set of fangs (four replacing his canines and an additional two replacing his upper eyeteeth) burst through his gums with the same viciousness as his other new…additions. His skin was growing paler, though with loss of blood or some other daemonic transformation she could not tell.

The power that she had glimpsed in the library was growing stronger, more powerful and compelling than the light and the chocolate that usually dominated the tones of her best friend, her brother's aura. It was taking him over and it was killing him, and the more she tried to stop it, the weaker her own magic was becoming. Oz was worried, she could tell. She hadn't drawn on her inner reserves this much, well, ever. He sat in the lotus position next to her, quiet as a monk at prayer, holding her hand, lending her his strength.

She was in love with him, she knew now without a doubt. Oz was something different, special; like he was a sage adult trapped in a teenager's body. Maybe it was fate, maybe the whim of the Goddess that they had met, but right now Willow was thanking every deity that she had ever heard of or read about that he was there. She would have collapsed long ago if she were alone right now, next to her best friend's broken, near-lifeless body. She gave a small sob as a fresh trickle of blood broke from the left wing. Xander's body had begun to shudder.

"Willow, you'll be alright," Oz said firmly. He squeezed her hand, letting her draw on his strength. He didn't say anything else, but then, he didn't have to. At the moment it was enough that he believed in her.

They both fought to ignore the blood that began to trickle out of Willow's nose as she began the spell again.

**888**

"Buffy, you realize I must very strongly advise against this course of action." Giles was in full worried Watcher-mode. "It is simply too dangerous, and far too vast a task to take on by yourself. At the least you should let me try and get Kendra to come up and help you," He tried desperately.

"If we wait for the next plane from Jamaica Xander could die. He needs help now. And besides, I have a plan," Buffy said, her voice a tightly controlled, angry monotone. She was walking out of the library, and on second thought she grabbed a vial of Hell-Fire on Giles' desk. They'd experimented with the formula when they'd launched their assault on Angelus' lair and received spectacular results. Without Willow's sun spell, this would come in handy.

"But--"

"No more buts, Giles," Buffy snapped. She turned to face him, silencing him with her eyes. "This is the way it has to be. I'm the Slayer, and I've let this go on long enough. It's time to end it, and if Angel has to die for Xander to live then I'm going to be the one on the end of the stake," she said flatly. Her tone brooked no room for argument. Giles sighed in defeat; she was glad that she wasn't going to have to knock him out again as she'd done the night she'd gone to face the Master. Giles could be amazingly stubborn when he wanted to be. It was what made her love him so much. It was also probably why he got conked on the head so much. She shrugged at that thought and turned on her heel to leave, pulling her hair up into a no-nonsense ponytail. At the end of it, she attached a special hair braid with a stone in it, that sparkled in the light.

At least she looked good.

Cordelia laid her hand on Giles' shoulder when he made to protest again. The library doors swished shut at the Slayer's departure and he slumped in defeat.

"This is the only way, Giles," Cordelia said firmly. "And I think that she'll be alright. You trained a good Slayer…even if she is an überbitch from hell at times," she added as an afterthought. It was a mark of how defeated Giles had allowed himself to become that he didn't even bother to correct her.

**888**

Buffy walked into the night, letting the heat of the late-spring night wash over her. She factored in how much she would sweat in this outfit to her goals for the night and stopped to get water from a fountain.

She hadn't been blowing air at Giles; she _did_ have a plan. She added the Hell-Fire to her thoughts and knew that this one was a winner. All she needed was to make the weasel squeal to get her where she needed to be, and the rest she could take care of. She was one of the most prolific Slayers in the books. She'd killed the Master, stopping him from causing an apocalypse - twice. She'd found a way to kill the Judge and prevent him from causing a human Armageddon. And now she was going to save her best friend. That was just the way things were going to be, and if anything was in the way of that goal, human or not, she would kill it and worry about the consequences later. She was the Slayer, the one girl in all the world born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires and demons, to find them where the shadows dwelt and burn their ashes to the winds.

And those demons had fought back against her, hard. She had only been sixteen when her first Watcher, Merrick, had died in her arms. She'd been powerless against Lothos, the Vampire King who she had later learned had used a power of hypnosis against her, and she had held the stuffy old man who had trained her to fight and to think, who had become like an uncle to her. She'd driven the final wedge in her parents' divorce, lost Pike (who had become obsessed with hunting and had left her), gotten kicked out of school, lost all of her friends, and then had to move to a new town.

Now, this supernatural bullshit had taken her youth and her future. It had taken Billy Fordum, who she had loved, and corrupted and then killed him. It had attacked her mother and her best friends, had made her an outcast and a freak at school. The only things that she had left in this world were her mother and her family of friends: Xander, Willow, Giles, Oz, and now Cordelia. She'd once had Angel, but she'd lost him too. She had once heard a prophesy that she was going to die. She'd tried to quit.

She knew now that this wasn't like that. If Xander died, and she had to kill Angelus, then that was it. That was the end. She would leave, leave Sunnydale and the Hellmouth and her life. She'd become someone else, something else, and leave the Hellmouth in Kendra's hands. It was too much. This was too much.

The anger at her life, her situation, her destiny, drove her forward, making her boots slam into the ground with each step. She passed by the Espresso Pump on her way downtown, towards the Bronze. An old biker with enough tats to ink up Sunnydale moved out of the way of the cold fire of her fury that was burning in her eyes. Those eyes were barely human. They promised death to anything that got in their way. And that was the way it should be. She was the Slayer. She'd let her emotions get the best of her with Angel, and this was where it had gotten her. She should have listened to Kendra.

**888**

Jenny took another drink of wine. She wasn't trying to get drunk, but false liquid courage was better than no courage, at any rate, and she didn't really see the harm in in. Her situation was forcing her to stay sober, and so she knocked back a few. Who cared? She picked up her glass and was suddenly filled with a violence, a hatred so strong that she choked back bile. Why couldn't they have sent two people? One to watch the Hellmouth and all on it was too much! Hadn't she suffered? Hadn't she _earned_ solace?!

She felt like a desiccated seed, too dried up and dead to be planted anywhere. She'd dared to hope that she would be able to stay here. She loved teaching, loved working with her students. She loved teaching Willow the Craft, loved Rupert more than anything she'd ever thought possible. She had dared to hope that Angel would stay good, stay working for the light like he seemed so determined to do. She'd dared to hope that Xander would not learn of what he was long enough that they could bind the boy forever.

Look what hope had gotten her, she thought with a hollow laugh. She felt like her soul was dying. A line poem came to her head, seeming so appropriate:

_She made a little shadow-hidden grave,_

_The day Faith died…_

Faith. That's what had died within her. The faith in a better life, a higher power. The belief in what she fought for. The hope that it would all turn out for the best. But surely it was the curse of the Hellmouth, she tried to think. _What, karmically, could I have possibly done to deserve this?!_ But thoughts like that were worthless. She knew what she was doing; she was stalling. She was stalling putting in the call because she didn't want to know that she had finally done it, had committed that betrayal to all of her hopes and dreams. But it was what she had to do. For the greater good.

She turned to her mirror, feeling everything good inside her burst into flames and curl into ashes. There was only a warrior now. A weary warrior who would complete her task and then crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Maybe with alcohol.

She spoke the traditional magic words, laughing a little at how easily it had been adapted to a children's story.

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall_

_Ere afore into thy depths I fall_

_Let this spell take hold on thee_

_Show me who I wish to see._

The mirror blurred her reflection, and for a frightening moment it showed her as a distorted, evil thing, the magic of the mirror making her eyes glow like they had when she had been briefly possessed by Eyghon. She shuddered at the memory and averted her eyes. There was a crackle, and a smell in the air like ozone as the mirror encountered strong magicks.

The protection spell divined her in moments, tearing through her defenses like paper. Jenny submitted to this, hating every minute of it. It hurt, and it made her feel small and dirty as it bared every part of her soul. After a moment, there was a crack like lightning and then the mirror showed the face of a pale blonde woman, so classically, agelessly beautiful that there was no telling her age. Her pale blue eyes surveyed Jenny with a sorrow that told Jenny that the woman knew her pain.

Just as they both knew there was nothing to be done for that pain.

"What we have long feared has come to pass," Jenny said quietly, without preamble. She could pretend to herself that saying these words to this woman did not hurt her. She could pretend that a thorn bush had not grown around her heart, pricking her whenever she moved.

"We felt it here, but prayed to the Goddess that it was not so," the woman said, her voice rich with sorrow. But there was determination there, too, as Jenny had known that there would be. They both knew what would be done. "We will be on our way shortly, Janna. You…have done well," she finished lamely, after a moment. Jenny gave her a bitter smile, which the other woman did not respond to.

Instead, there was another crack like lightning and the mirror flashed a bright blue as the image vanished, the spell ended, and the mirror showed her there, small and sobbing. She broke, sobbing hysterically, and grabbed her wineglass. "_This_ is what I pray to you for, Goddess?! WHY?!" she screamed, and threw the glass at the mirror, breaking them both to pieces. But the shattered mirror only showed her herself, more times in multiple reflections.

Jenny fell to her knees in the broken glass, feeling it slice into her skin. She welcomed the pain as she gave in to the heaving in her insides and vomited on the floor, again and again. She collapsed, feeling the glass cut her cheek as she dry heaved, until there was nothing left in her stomach. She didn't move, didn't stop crying for a long, long time.

She thought of Xander with a sorrow so rich there were no words for it, and whispered "May the Goddess watch over you."

**888**

Willow and Oz both jumped when the door to the apartment opened. Oz had been so focused on lending his strength to Willow that his superior werewolf senses hadn't picked up on Giles and Cordelia's return. They were quiet, closing the door and locking it behind them. Buffy wasn't with them, Oz noted absently as he turned to Willow. She'd been about to try the spell again, but he silenced her with a finger. She tried to protest, but he kissed her silent. It was still one of their first kisses, and she collapsed against his chest with a whispered sob.

"Let them take over for a while, honey," he whispered into her hair. "You're about to collapse." She nodded against his chest and he took her hand. She couldn't resist looking back at Xander. He was pale as snow, and a fine webbing of black veins had started to become visible on the side of his face that was turned up. The blood out of his mouth had stopped, at the very least, and his fingers hadn't bled as his nails turned into talons, but his back was still a mess, and his head wasn't much better. The most they'd been able to do in between healing spell attempts was to reuse gauze again and again and clean the blood up.

Xander's hair had spiked itself, somehow, as the physical aspects of the demon began to take him over. The only comfort, Oz thought, was that he wasn't awake. A possessed Xander would not be of the good, according to Buffy and Willow, who had once told him a story of a hyena-possessed Xander and all that had followed. Apparently evil Xander was kind of sexy, at least according to Willow, and also incredibly dangerous. Xander had become the alpha leader of the Pack easily, and was the only one strong enough to maintain his brain throughout the event. Giles hadn't touched on this aspect, but Oz strongly suspected that there was a capacity for darkness within Xander that no one wanted to admit.

Along with his werewolf senses, Oz had always had a sort of sixth sense with people (not, obviously, in an 'I see dead people' manner of speaking - even living on the Hellmouth with Xander that joke was just too obvious for anyone to go for), a way to gauge what someone might be. Taciturn as he was, he didn't like to speak suspicions unless he had fact to back them up. Now, though, as he looked at Xander and how creepily beautiful (in a totally evil way) that he was (and Oz had always noticed guys like that; it just wasn't something that he spoke about - it just was what it was. He had a feeling that he'd be in love with Willow just as much if she were a guy) like this, he had to wonder exactly how much of this was the possession or whatever it was, and how much of this was originally Xander.

He thought of this quickly, and mainly returned his focus back to Willow. She couldn't even walk her legs were shaking so bad, so he threw her arm over his shoulder and helped her hobble down the stairs. He tried to keep up his strength for her; she didn't need him to be weak and show her how worried he was about her. She needed him to be the rock that she could rest on, and that was what he was going to be.

"Good lord, Willow!" Giles explained, leaping to his feet and crashing his tea service to the ground as he stared at her. "You didn't keep up that spell the entire time we were gone!" Willow could only nod weakly as she collapsed onto his sofa. "That was entirely unhealthy, Willow--"

"Giles!" Cordelia barked. She shot him a warning glare, and Oz gratefully slumped on the chair next to Willow. Giles subsided, and she motioned him toward the stairs with an imperious nod of the head. Oz sometimes had to wonder if Cordelia would win a Queen competition against the Queen of England…but that thought was useless. Cordy would win, of course. She'd poison the competition to get at the crown if she thought she was going to lose.

**888**

Buffy stared at the outside of the building, gauging exits and wondering how best to get in. She'd have to find a way to block the back door and the sewer exit, or this would all be for nothing. She'd start with the sewer; there wouldn't be any vamps in there at night. They could all walk around outside right now, and it was just about time for there to be a big crowd at this establishment before they all crawled back to their little holes to hide from the day.

Willy's Bar was the Sunnydale haven for demons, run by Willy. Everyone called him Willy the Snitch because Willy was in touch with all activity in Sunnydale, human or daemonic, and could usually either be paid for or beaten into giving you whatever information you might need. Buffy might go up against Willy alone, but there was always the chance that she needed one of the vampires to give her the information that she was after.

She dropped down into the sewer from a manhole on the street. It was a mark of how bad this place was that the streets didn't even have covers for the manholes around Willy's; when the sun rose any exposed vamp could just dive in to save their hide and stay at Willy's for the day, or under it, as the case may be. She kicked a rat that tried to freak her out and sent it flying; that seemed to be enough to discourage its creepy little rodent friends from trying the same trick. She sloughed through the disgusting green water, creeping as quietly as Slayerly possible, until she'd reached the cover leading up to Willy's.

She leapt up, easily dislodging it and peeking over the rim. There was one bogie at about two o'clock, rummaging through the beer to see if there was any blood. She cast out her Slayer senses to see if one was waiting behind her to ambush her, but there was only one leech here. She threw herself out of the sewer, and as the blood bag turned to see what the small noise was, she threw her hand over its mouth and rammed a stake into its heart, and watched in silently crumble to ash beneath her hand. She nodded in satisfaction and tucked the stake back into its sleeved sheathe, before she turned to the door.

There were three locks on it (thank God Willy was paranoid about his life, the greasy little worm), and there were enough kegs of alcohol back here to effectively blockade the thing. She set to work, moving as quietly as she could, thanking the jukebox that was blasting the latest god-awful whining boy band contribution to the pop world (she was more an alternative fan, herself) as it masked her movements. The bar sounded busy, which meant two things: a) Willy was here, so he could pick up on all the good info, and b) that all kinds of vampires across Sunnydale were here for a last dinner/nightcap before turning in for the day. She'd timed it right after all.

When the last keg was in place, she turned back and leapt back into the sewer, hanging on by her fingertips until she'd jimmied the cover back into place, just in case. She hurried back out of the sewer, jumping a straight ten feet up into the air with her Slayer strength and landed back out on the streets. She ran to the back door and quickly hauled a dumpster to block it. Sweat streaming down her face, she slammed the dumpster into the door, effectively blocking it. It would take at least ten demons slamming on it to get that out of the way, especially after as an afterthought she ran back and kicked the front two wheels out of whack.

With that, she ran back to the front of the club and stared at it. She pulled out the Hell-Fire carefully, and uncorked the smoking bottle.

"Showtime," she whispered to herself with a dark smile.

**888**

Giles held Cordelia as she buried her face in his shoulder, desperate to not look at the mockery of what her friend had once been. It was hard, he thought, to convince oneself that Xander was still there underneath it all. Perhaps it was because of his days with Eyghon that he could objectively force himself to see Xander there, to feel the boy beneath the demon. This was different than a possession, though; there was some other force at work here. A powerful one, one beyond anything he'd felt before.

"What's happened to him, Giles?" Cordelia whispered.

"I wish I could tell you," he said quietly as he went to sit by the bed. He had even less magical energy than Willow, and he would only be able to say the spell at the most three times. He'd have to wait until it was desperately needed. And he would have to pray that Buffy knew what she was doing.

As if reading his thoughts, Cordelia said "Buffy will pull it off. If anyone can do this, she can." It was a vote of confidence that Giles was grateful for. He had found himself appreciating the girl's at times intolerably blunt honesty lately, and he found himself taking some hope that she was right and that Buffy _would_ be alright. He feared for her, feared her going against Angelus. Feared that she would not be able to do what needed to done.

He stared down at Xander and felt tears welling in his eyes. It had been with a heavy heart and great mixed feelings that he'd allowed Xander and Willow to become, as they'd dubbed themselves, Buffy's "Slayerettes" and help with the fighting. He had shocked himself by being almost proud of the boy when he'd gone after Buffy in the sewers that first day, simply because he had a friend down there and knew that it was the right thing to do. Xander, as immature as he could sometimes be, was a symbol, even though he didn't know it.

Xander stood for the youthful naïveté, the innocence and light that they all fought to preserve. It was from that light that shone so strongly that Buffy had gathered so much strength. It was that light that had forced a two hundred year old vampire to go down to the Master's lair, and it was that light that had done the impossible and saved Buffy's life and also split the Slayer line in two. It was that boy that had faced down prophesies and apocalypses to save his friends. He was everything they fought for, and he was the son that Giles had never had.

He was the true friend that Cordelia had been searching for all her life, he was the brother that Willow needed, and the paragon of strength that Buffy needed to draw support from as she fought the forces of darkness that were her curse and calling. Giles sank to his knees and drew Xander's hand into his, clenching it tightly. Xander might as well have been his son, and he would do whatever it took, come what may and hell to pay, to keep him.

He felt a pang in his heart, though of what he couldn't tell, when Xander moaned slightly in his sleep and clenched Giles' hand all the tighter.

**888**

The patrons of Willy's Bar that survived the holocaust would never ever forget that night as long as they lived. They would talk about if for years, mainly because it scared them so bad and taught them why they should never take on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, _ever_, because she was the scariest bitch that they had ever _ever _seen in their entire undead daemonic _lives_.

One minute, they were all laughing, drinking, having a good time. A few of them were more serious, talking about Angelus and whatever had happened. Bets were being placed on whether he'd kill the Slayer or the Slayer would kill him. In that moment all bets shifted to the Slayer living because at that moment the door burst open in a fiery explosion that shattered half the glass in the place and shook everyone to their toes. Willy pissed himself. Five vampires that had been near the door burst into flames and scattered ashes within seconds. And that was when _she_ walked in.

Just like a one woman army, she stepped in, completely cold, brutal, and completely aware that she was going to kill each and every single demon and human in this establishment. She took out a bottle of holy water and shook it with a jaunty wave. "Don't try to run. You'll just make this even more painful than it needs to be." Her voice dripped ice.

So, of course, ten vamps headed for the different doors while the rest were still too stunned to move. She threw the holy water as hard as she could at a corner, where the glass exploded. The stupidly stunned vamps that hadn't been able to figure out that she'd already blocked the doors screamed in pain as the blessed water burned and tormented their skin. She smirked at the sound as she grabbed a table and blocked the ruins of the front door. She stepped down and met her first attacker.

He was a large brute that went straight for a haymaker. She unleashed her secret weapon when she ducked under it and spun herself as fast as she could. The stone that was attached to her hair whipped out like a slingshot and slammed into the creature's eye with a disgusting crack. He screamed in pain as she completed the twirl by sweeping his legs out from under him and slammed a stake into his heart. She straightened with two fearsome looking stakes, one in each hand, and she screamed loud enough to shake glass: "Any of you other fucks want to dance, you'll go down! I'm gonna get what I came for, and I'll collect the head of any stupid little bitch who's too stupid to not leave the fighting to those of us who _can_!"

This was enough of a taunt to send the five angriest vamps after her. She held herself in a ready stance, and when three of them rushed her, she leapt straight up to the ceiling, watching in her hind view when they slammed into each other hard enough to shake the floor. She landed in between the two that had stayed behind and had both stakes in both hearts before either of them could so much as blink.

She turned to the other three, who were shaking themselves and staring at her in fear as she turned to them next. "Next," she said calmly.

"BITCH!" one screamed, and threw herself at the Slayer with a whirl of vampiric claws and gnashing fangs. Buffy caught her and used her momentum to slam her to the ground hard enough to snap the arm the vampiress landed on. Buffy threw herself to her feet, easily recognizing the feint, and leapt into the air, letting her right foot lash out in a roundhouse swing. Buffy felt her foot connect with the two who had tried to attack her rear when she'd slammed the first bitch on the floor. They both went down, and she landed battle ready.

"Lick my boots while you're down there," she sneered, taunting them to get back up again. The rest of the bar stared at her in shock. Did she have a fucking _death wish_?! The girl was the first to get up, and Buffy whirled, grabbing her by her broken arm, twisting till the leech screamed, and then sent her sliding all the way down the bar, shattering every glass and bottle on the way. The girl screamed in pain and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, shuddering and sobbing, pulling glass out of her face. Buffy smirked and hurled a stake through the air, slamming it point-first in the girl's heart. Dust.

She leapt into the air, back-flipping over the two vamps who were just getting up, and slammed her stake into one. The other, she grabbed a handy pool cue and slammed it into his groin. He screamed and landed in the ashes of his compatriot. She slammed it onto his head and then stabbed him through the heart, pulling the cue all the way through his chest and holding the gore-covered makeshift staff at the ready as she faced the rest of the bar. Willy pissed himself again.

She looked like the Morrigan, the terrible Raven warrior goddess of Irish mythology, standing calmly, not even breathing hard, holding a gore encrusted staff ready, waiting for the next attack. One vamp stupidly tried to hide under the table, and she lashed out with her foot, sending a beer bottle flying through the air and hitting him in the forehead with perfect aim. He crumpled with a yelp of pain, and everyone else (about twenty) just stared at her in shock and not the least bit of fear.

"You're all pathetic," she snarled, "a mockery of what it means to be alive. You demons just invade our bodies and haul carcasses around and call it living…_none_ of you are worth my time. But there is one running around out there that _is_," she said, every inch of her an Ice Queen, the beauty in her made terrible. She tossed down the pool cue and pulled out the wickedly sharp, foot long knife from her boot. "He hurt my friend. This is completely unacceptable to me. I'm going to hunt him down. I'm going to kill him. And I'm gonna start collecting dicks and tits with this thing to gild and nail on my wall until one of you tells me where he is."

There was a stunned silence, save some whimpering. Willy had nothing left in his bladder, else he would have pissed himself _again_. He wondered if you could shit yourself in terror. He also wondered for the umpteenth time why he didn't take his snitch money and run as far away from Sunnydale as he possibly could.

"Any takers?" Buffy asked, waving the knife around with a terrible smile on her face. As one, the entire vampiric population fell over itself to appease her.

**888**

A/N: Okay, so I meant to finish this, but this chapter is going to be a two-parter. I'm going to finish it as a gift to my readers before I go on the above-mentioned trip. Sorry to leave you hanging, but there's only so much typing you can do at midnight before your fingers just collapse and your brain decides that it hates you and makes you hemorrhage in uncomfortable places.

Okay, that and I like cliffhangers, and this is obviously a big one.

Also, a note on the fight scene: I made a mini little play list for that one, so if anyone would like a little thing to listen to while reading the Buffy fight (I must say, I almost scared myself with her on this one) here it is:

1) "Awakening" by The Damning Well

2) "Bombs Over Baghdad (Rock Version)" by OutKast

3) "99 Problems/One Step Closer" by Linkin Park and Jay-Z

4) "Blow Me Away" by Breaking Benjamin

Number three can be substituted with just "One Step Closer" by Linkin Park - the only way I _can_ listen to Jay-Z is when he did _Collision Course_ with Linkin Park. Otherwise he just annoys me. I'm not a big rap fan, in case you guys didn't catch that (not to piss off rap fans; it's just not my scene).

Number four comes off of one of the Halo soundtracks, not sure which, I don't play the game, I just like Breaking Benjamin. And also the Rock Version of BOB by OutKast that I have says it features Red Hot Chili Peppers; I don't know if this is true. Whatever.

Oh, and BTW, the whole Hell-Fire idea is a shout-out to the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Chaos Bleeds_ video game that I now own. It's an amazing game and it really gives us fans a chance to play all our favorite characters. The only drawbacks: no Angel, no Oz, and they have actors for Buffy, Anya and Willow (the one for Buffy is _way_ believable, but the other two _SUCK_). Other than that, I recommend it to any _Buffyverse _fan.

Anyway, I'm tired, and I'm gonna have to write another part of this chapter tomorrow to post before I leave. You guys had better appreciate me. Just kidding. Thanks for reading, and have a great night…/morning. I'm tired. Love to all. Whatever. Just get me a pillow.


	19. XVII Part II Tears from the Moon

A/N: That was refreshing: nothing like giving your fingers and wrists a break for a day (not to mention my _brain_, damn it) and _then_ finishing off that outrageous cliffhanger. But I also had some more time to plot out some plot, and I realized that if I'd continued the way that I was going, that chapter would be like thirty pages or more before I'd finished. I kind of like saving _those_ chapters for when I need to suck up to you guys for something (I.E., posting chapter fifteen after an embarrassingly long hiatus). So breaking it up into two parts seemed rather logical.

AND SOME RANDOM MAJOR MUSIC PIMPAGE: Red Hot Chili Peppers are the shit, as everyone knows, but I've only recently got a chance to listen to the entire _Stadium Arcadium _album: it is a work of unparalleled genius and every music lover should buy it. Also, Liz Phair's seminal _Exile in Guyville_ is getting a deluxe edition facelift: I'm getting it the day it comes out (I used to friggin' _worship_ that album). Also, the two disc platinum edition of Pink's phenomenal comeback _I'm Not Dead_ not only has some great bonus material but is not expensive (which is huge in the music world today) - buy it!

And speaking of music, I've got another Passion soundtrack that I'll be posting in the next few chapters. Sometime.

As always, thanks to my fantastic reviewers, and this chapter is as usual dedicated to you guys. And also, seeing as how my damn fingers can't stay away from the keyboard, I might just end up posting another chapter after this one. You never know (and frankly, neither do I), so keep your fingers crossed and hope for the best! Cheers and enjoy the show!

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XVII, Part II

Tears from the Moon

_Tears from the Moon_

_Fall down like rain_

_I reach for you_

_I reach I vain_

_Stop_

_Stop haunting me_

_It should be easy_

_As easy as when you stopped wanting me…_

"Tears from the Moon"

Conjure One (Featuring Sinéad O'Connor)

Even though she'd been expecting it, Jenny still jumped when the heavy knock sounded at her door. She put the wineglass down with trembling fingers and went to the water closet in the hallway next to the door to splash some water on her face. The water still stung on the cuts on her face, even though she'd already put hydrogen peroxide on them. She carefully scrubbed away excess scab and snot and tears from her face, standing back to survey herself in the mirror. Presentable, she decided.

Without further delay, she headed to the door and pulled back the chain. The Lady did not appreciate being kept waiting. Jenny concentrated outside the door, trying to feel for magic. She didn't feel anything, which could mean one of two things: the group had cloaked themselves to avoid detection, or there was someone else outside her door. She gripped a stake and a cross in case it was a vampire (this _was_ Sunnydale, after all, and with Angelus on the loose a gypsy couldn't be too careful), and pulled open the door.

"Where is the creature?"

**888**

Giles paused from wiping Xander's wounds with the fresh gauze that he and Cordelia had picked up from the drug store on their way back to his flat, and turned to check on his other charges. Cordelia had slumped, beyond exhaustion, sitting straight up in a chair that she'd dragged next to his bed. She looked terribly fragile while sleeping - probably the only time she relaxed enough to let herself appear weak, he thought with some amusement.

He glanced over the stair balcony and saw Willow and Oz curled up, the picture of innocence, fully clothed on the couch. He allowed himself to smile gently as he saw the way that even in sleep the werewolf's hand gripped the petite redhead protectively. It had taken some convincing to get Willow to lay down (he'd argued that she needed to regain her magical energies, and could only do that by resting), but once her head had hit a pillow she'd not opened her eyes again. Oz had followed, finally giving in to his own exhaustion, and had curled up next to her.

His apartment felt silent and cramped, almost lifeless with the usually boisterous Scooby Gang asleep around him, and for a moment he was gripped with a pang of regret for the demise of his relationship with Jenny. She had been unexpected, spontaneous. Her beauty had stunned the gentleman within him, spurring him to an awkward courtship that she'd promptly tossed aside and then asked _him_ out. He remembered their disastrous evening at the Monster Truck Rally with a sigh of longing. If only for those uncomplicated days, when Buffy would walk into the library complaining about school or some such, with Willow and Xander laughing and joking with her as they all prepared to fight the latest evil.

He had used to be excited about his work as a Watcher, used to revel in the feel of being able to contribute to the fight against the darkness. He'd enjoyed training Buffy; indeed, he'd even begun to feel a sort of exasperated pleasure at her determination to balance her impossible life as the Slayer with the normalcy that she craved. _"This is the nineties," she said, exasperated. "The 1990's, in point of fact, and I can do both_," he remembered her insisting irritably when she had first wanted to start dating in Sunnydale.

Now…now, her lover was perhaps the most evil, depraved, psychotic, and dangerous vampires in existence. A powerful dark force was taking over her best friend and perhaps killing him. Buffy had changed, changed into the Slayer he had first thought that she would be before he'd met her. She was no longer the bright, sunny California girl who seemed to epitomize the songs of the Beach Boys. This situation with Angelus had cast her into an eclipse…one that he was determined to get her out of.

He returned to Xander's bedside with a renewed sense of purpose. He _would_ save Xander's life, because he refused to accept anything else as an option. And with the boy's life he would salvage the sunlight in Buffy's smile, because he couldn't think of her never smiling again as she once had.

**888**

"Where's Angelus?" Buffy growled, taking a menacing step toward a cowering vampiress who was on the floor next to her upended barstool. The Spanish-looking vampire had obviously thought she was tough; she was in a biker jacket and beat up jeans with a shirt that had bloodstains on it, though whether that was from a meal or from a fight was hard to tell. Now, however, Biker Bitch was shaking more than a box of Shake n' Bake and looked like she'd piss herself if her body could.

"I d-d-d-don't kn-know," she whined piteously, holding a warding hand up to Buffy. The Slayer rolled her eyes and kicked her hand out of the way.

"I'm gonna count to three, and then I'm taking out my friend Mr. Cross here and putting him in a real uncomfortable place for a while," Buffy threatened, brandishing the cross around her neck. The vamp squeaked and jerked back, her human face coming to the fore, the demon inside of her cowed for the moment.

"Alright!" she screamed, panicked. "I don't know for sure, I just know that he and Spike and that freaky chick they run with were trying to pick up minions after something bad went down at the Factory," she babbled. Buffy cut her off with a curse.

"Shit! Spike _and_ Drusilla lived?" she demanded. The vampiress nodded vigorously, looking vaguely like an irritated chicken. Buffy sighed - there weren't a lot of things that could make this night much worse, but the thought that all three of the deranged Scourge of Europe were alive and building a retaliating army against her…that'd be enough to make Hitler a little nervous, Buffy decided.

"All I know is that they headed--"

Buffy had been so focused on the vamp in front of her that she didn't notice the smaller, leaner, more insane looking vampire sneaking up behind her until he grabbed her around the waist and slung her into the wall as hard as he possibly could. What she _did_ notice was the pain in her ribs when she hit the wall with a smack of leather on wall that'd make a skinner wince. She fell to the ground, gasping in pain, her stake clattering away from her.

"You _fool_! Did you truly think you could make us betray our master Angelus?!" Psycho-Boy crowed victoriously. He followed this with a roundhouse kick to her face that did nothing to alleviate her pain or her mood. She gasped in pain as his boot connected with her cheek, slamming her down to the ground. Buffy cursed herself for not keeping a closer watch on her back; she'd thought she had the whole situation well-in-hand. This is what she got for insisting on going alone. Even as she thought this, at least seven vamps cautiously stepped behind the freak that'd jumped her. She saw the anger in their eyes, and knew that they were out for blood. Most demons don't like admitting that they were scared, and vampires were a cockier branch than most.

"I'll dance in your blood, Slayer!" the vamp was busy raving. "I'll bring your unconscious body to the master and let him play with you, and I'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams!"

Buffy noticed that one of the big boys gave the little nutcase an irritated glance. Sensing an opening, she seized it. "Oh, yeah, big boy? Why aren't you _with_ your precious master now, if you love him so much?"

"SHUT UP!" he snarled, his face instantly transforming into its true demonic visage. "Shut the fuck up or I'll rip your throat out! No one is more loyal to him than me!" Spittle flew from his fangs as he glared at her.

"What's so great about _Angelus_?" Buffy goaded him, checking to make sure irritated guy was still irritated. "He's not even as scary as the Master," she said flatly, driving the final thorn into this guy's side.

"You shut your _fucking_ mouth, Slayer!" It was just as she'd planned; his eyes lit up like a jack-o'-lantern on Halloween as he hissed at her. "Angelus is great and powerful, his cunning like a wolf's! He will break you, Slayer, and all vampires will rule under him--"

"Aw, shut the fuck up!" irritated boy snarled, grabbed the stake Buffy had dropped when she'd hit the wall, and slammed it into psycho's heart in one smooth move. Psycho had enough chance to scream in surprised pain before both he and the stake crumbled into dust. It was what Buffy had been waiting for; she used the wall as a springboard and launched herself into the midst of the vampires like a bowling ball with a vendetta against the pins.

The group of insurrectionists stumbled back into each other, two of them yelling as they fell down, hitting the floor hard. Buffy rolled into a handstand, landing on her feet next to the gore-splattered pool cue that she'd laid against the bar when she'd started questioning the first chick. Said vampiress hissed and leapt at her. Buffy stabbed the cue upwards, stabbing her through the heart and slamming her body on the floor. She felt the tip of the cue hit the floor and used it as a pole vault, launching herself up into the air. By the time her would-be informant had dusted, Buffy had landed by the two already on the ground. She strategically stabbed the cue twice: dust.

She straightened up as the rest of the vamps ran at her with yells, roars and battle cries. She bent backwards and brought the cue up, spinning it three hundred and sixty degrees around, slamming it into vamps around her, knocking them back and clearing a way toward the bar for her. She jumped up onto and over it, landing next to Willy. He had a key out and was trying to open a trapdoor under his bar. _Typical_, she thought, annoyed.

"Looks like you're the one who's going to be telling me some info again, Willy," she said cheerfully. He gasped in terror and tried to open the lock. She slammed the cue onto his head and he was out like a light. She reached down for a bottle of liquor and with her other hand snapped the key in the lock. She then grabbed a Willy's Bar book of matches and ripped some material out of Willy's shirt. She straightened up from behind the bar with her Molotov cocktail just as two vamps jumped onto the bar.

"Order up!" she yelled, and threw the bottle onto the bar, at the same time launching herself off to the side and out of the way of the miniature explosion. She looked up as she landed and saw the entire bar go up in flames, taking the two jumpers with it. They ashed on contact and she smirked as she grabbed another pool cue, which she snapped in half over her knee. This gave her two crude but effective sharp wooden swords. She spun them around, tested their weight, and launched herself back into the fray.

**888**

"How is he?" asked a small voice next to him, and Giles jumped. Cordelia had stirred from her nap, stretching her arms and working a few kinks out of her neck. She still looked small and terribly fragile, and he kept his voice gentle when he answered "About the same, I'm afraid." She nodded as she looked at Xander.

The boy…well, one could no longer call him a boy anymore. The transformation must be nearing completion, Giles was afraid to admit to himself. The…body's skin was as white as porcelain, with black veins running through it. The lips were red, the hair an incredible black. The effect was rather like a daemonic version of Snow White, really - save for the enormous black wings brutally bursting from his back and the horns that had erupted from his forehead. His nails were two inches long and fairly sharp, and whenever he opened his mouth an impressive set of wickedly sharp fangs had replaced his teeth.

And, even to the senses of a Watcher, he could feel the raw power radiating from him in waves. Giles wasn't quite sure that he _wanted_ to know what was possessing the boy at this point; he could think of nothing save for a pure demon from below the Hellmouth itself that could possibly have this strong of an aura, perhaps not even one of them.

"He's going to die, isn't he?" Cordelia whispered, her eyes shining. Giles wanted to instantly refute her words, reassure her. But he was exhausted, and he knew that at this point the lie would show in his eyes if he tried. It was nearly five o'clock in the morning; the sun would be rising soon. Buffy hadn't even managed to call yet - he was beginning to truly worry about her safety as well. At this rate, even if Xander didn't die of his wounds whatever demonic force inside of him would assume complete control. And then what? Send Buffy to kill what was once her best friend? To be completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure that she even could - Angelus was still alive solely because Buffy had not yet truly managed to kill the hope inside herself that her beloved Angel would somehow manage to come back.

"I don't know," he said quietly, and Cordelia bowed her head. He sighed and sat down next to her, slowly putting an arm around her. She slumped into the half-hug, and a small sob escaped her. Ah, he thought. He'd been waiting for this, ever since Buffy and Willow had both broken down in the library. All of them were exhausted, physically, mentally, and psychologically. It was unfair, the weight that was being heaped on their shoulders. What made it even worse was that they'd _chosen_ to help bear that weight; Buffy at least could blame her destiny. All of these children had chosen to help because it was the right thing.

Thinking of his own childhood, he felt even more proud of all of them. At their age he'd been fighting his destiny as hard as he possibly could. Both parents highly respected Watchers and occult researchers? His fate had been mapped for him as soon as he was born. So he'd lashed out, choosing rebellion and petty crime and eventually Eyghon, his worst mistake yet that had come back to haunt him in ways that his stupid teenage self would never ever imagine. And here was Cordelia Chase, rich princess and fashion extraordinaire, sobbing in his arms because she'd helped fight so hard to get Xander back only to finally lose him when she'd succeeded.

He let the back of his head hit the wall as he whispered a prayer for all things lost - especially the simple innocence of childhood.

**888**

Willy was just coming to when the last of the vampires fell. There was no one left in the bar but him and the Slayer…if you could even call it a bar anymore. Half of the bar itself had been blown to pieces, and the other half was a smoldering ruin anyway. ¾ of the glass in the place was shattered. Ten of twelve tables were in pieces. One of his pool tables was broken and slammed as a block against the front door, which was a gaping hole now, still smoking. Some of the walls were cracked, most of the seats were in pieces, the pictures on the walls were either damaged or crooked or just plain gone. There was enough vampire dust covering the floor to sweep up into a comfortable bed.

And crouching not ten feet away from him was Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, a blonde California teen who was covered in blood, most of it not her own, breathing hard, holding a splintered foot long piece of wood and a cross. She was staring at him as the dust from the last of the vamps settled around her. She slowly stood, stretching, and he watched, mesmerized, as she carelessly cracked her back and neck, stretching the kinks and bruises out of her abused body. She'd taken a beating, Buffy had, but none of that mattered now. She'd been pushed beyond what she'd thought she was capable of. She'd had everything taken away from her and then been pushed some more. And now the Slayer was pushing back, _hard_.

"How'd you sleep, Willy?" she questioned, pulling one of the few intact barstools up next to him and sitting down on it. She put the cross in her pocket and tapped the stake on her pants, waiting for an answer.

"Like I was hit in the head with a pool stick," he said irritably. This was worse than a hangover. "Look at my place! Look! Who the hell is gonna _pay_ for this?!" he moaned. "I'm done!" Hopefully the dramatics would distract her.

"Yes, you are." Flatly. Obviously there was no dice, distraction-wise. "I should have run you out of her the moment I found out about this place. But I've let you be useful a couple of times. That's saved your hide. It's time for you to be useful again - cuz, after the year I've been having, I'm thinking the same makeover I just gave to your bar would look pretty good on your face." Buffy narrowed her eyes meaningfully in his direction.

Willy sighed and slumped back against the wall. _Why me_? he thought mournfully. Ever since his mom had kicked him out ("And don't come _back_ till you've got yerself a _job_, freeloader!") he'd drifted, looking for a place to settle. Sunnydale had looked promising - nice place on the surface, still had some rough places for pot and anything else he was in the mood for. Plus, for some reason, the real estate here was to _die_ for. Obviously.

When he'd done a vamp a favor and been scared into setting another vamp on fire, the first vamp had thanked him by killing the owner of a bar and chucking him in it. "You keep me and my buddies in blood and beers, you keep this place, Willy," he'd said. Willy, once he was done pissing himself at the thought that there were fucking _vampires_ in the world, had easily agreed, thinking that at least it would pay.

Of course, the vamps all wanted free. But Willy was very, very good at making money. So when he'd come across a Sissero demon (there weren't a lot of demons that could freak him out at this point, but Sisseros were some of them: they were freaky little blue things that were good at getting into hard-to-reach places and killing the people hiding there, for a small fee) he'd paid it to take out his benefactor. After that, Willy's was the cheap place for demons, and he was even able to take in some human customers during the day.

When a vamp had walked into his bar and offered him 500 to tell him the gossip about a vamp named Darnell (somehow that name stuck in his greasy little head, even to this day), he'd fell into the snitching business. And he'd been raking in dough ever since. Sure, he got beat up a lot and threatened quite a bit, but at the end of the day, no one really messed with Willy because who else would they find in Sunnydale to take his place?

_Then_, of course, his life, which had been going so well, decided that it wanted to suck again. So Angel had come to town, and suddenly Willy was getting beat down every other week. Because Angel never paid, he just hit first and asked later. And whenever he gave Angel info it somehow made it to the Slayer, so whoever he'd snitched on came back and beat him up _again_. Then, to make matters worse, the Slayer had finally found his place. And suddenly he was getting beat up even _more_.

Then Angelus had showed up and bye-bye Angel, and Willy's Bar was back in full business. So of course he'd gotten stupid and let himself get lulled into feeling secure again. And that was when the Slayer, who'd suddenly gotten quite the 'tude and was very, _very_ scary, walked into his bar about three hours ago and pretty much leveled it to the ground.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, defeated. Boca. He had some nice money saved up - maybe he could get to it and head down to Boca. Bora Bora. The Caribbean. Somewhere, _anywhere_, just get him the hell away from Sunnydale, vampires, and the Slayer.

"I want to know where Angel is. I need to know how many vamps he has with him, and if Spike and Drusilla are still with him or if they've gone out," Buffy said tiredly. She looked like he felt, and for a moment he almost felt sorry for her. He'd always thought the Slayer gig was a rough deal. But then, she _had_ just practically fucking _nuked_ his bar. His pity ran out. If she wanted to go on her little suicide mission against Angelus, that was her call.

"He's at the Weeping Willow Funeral Home, outside of the First Street cemetery. He's got his whole freaky little family with him. Word on the street is that he's getting a whole bunch of vamps together because you blew his place and snatched his fucktoy--"

"His _what_?!" Buffy yelped, suddenly fully awake and standing off her stool. She was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He wondered what he'd said that she didn't know.

"You know, the kid you took from him," he elaborated. "The whole vamp community's all freaked out because when Angel was evil he never fucked around with mortals unless he was gonna turn em or at least drive em nuts like he did with that Drusilla chick. But this one he's had up in his bedroom for this whole time, been sendin' minions down here to make sure that the kid's got like books and vitamins and shit. Kinda freaks me out, too, cuz accordin' to everyone, _this_ Angelus is even crazier than the old Angelus."

"You mean…" she said, sounding very small. "…that Angelus…was…uh, sleeping with…_him_?"

_Oh, _that's_ why she's freaked_, Willy thought. "Well, yeah. Vamps are sluts - most of em don't really care if it's a guy or a girl," he explained. Buffy was looking pretty sick about something. "Well, you were with the soul him, so it's not really like your boyfriend cheated on you," he said, trying to cheer her up. Unhappy Buffy meant exploded bar.

"Shut up," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut tight. He shut up. There was some other kind of pain behind that one. He figured he better not tell her that in all likelihood, Angelus was fucking Spike and Drusilla and maybe some of his minions too. Or at least he had been, before the kid. That was just weird, too; when vamps got involved with humans, the rare times that that happened, it never ended well. Usually with lots of tragedy and blood and other stuff. Witness Buffy and Angel. He shook his head.

Buffy slowly opened her eyes, blinking away…tears? Willy gave her a double-take, but they were gone before he was sure they were there.

"Get outta here, Willy," she said quietly, a rough, bitter sort of anger in her voice. "Don't come back. Ever."

Not one to argue when it meant living, Willy sprang to his feet and scurried toward the door. But she stopped him with her voice. She sounded so small, like a fucking ten year old instead of the cold hard bitch that had blew up his bar and killed everyone in it. "Willy… Angelus… he… well…_cares_ about the kid that he took?"

"He killed anyone who so much as looked at him," he answered her, and the pain that shot through her eyes at those words was enough to make him turn and squeeze past the pool table and shoot out into the darkness outside. He may be bent, but no one would want to stick around and see that girl crumple inside the way he just did.

**888**

Jenny stared out of her living-room window, seeing nothing in the darkness. She was fighting staring at the reflection of the figures filling her living room. There were five of them, a smaller envoy than she'd been expecting, considering the situation. But the raw power that she knew just their leader contained was…well, maybe five was enough for…she flinched at the thought and turned to regard them instead as they took their tea.

The leader was the Lady herself, which told in itself how serious this was. She had only left the Holy Isle one other time in the fifty years that she had ruled it, and Jenny had been with her at the time - about fifteen years ago, now. Her name was Marie-Claire Christiene, and she was a beautiful blonde Frenchwoman. Her accent had become less and less pronounced over the years - as, of course, had all the classic markers of her age. The Isle was removed from this world, by ancient magicks, and time moved differently there. The previous Lady that Marie-Claire had taken over from had been more than three hundred years old when she'd finally passed into the Summerland.

With the Lady was her partner, the Lord, who ruled the men of the Isle. He was one that Jenny had not seen since she was herself a child. He looked the same, and she remembered that on their only meeting she had disliked him. He seemed too angry, and far from the wise sage needed to be the Lord of the Isle. His name was Mathu, and he was descended from old Irish stock. His hair was still as red as she remembered, with sparkling green eyes. He would have been exceptionally handsome were it not for the slight sneer that always seemed to grace his features, and the habit he had of talking down to people. The Lady was the only one he seemed to respect. Even now he sat on her rocking chair, a barely-disguised tension running through his figure.

There were three others. Two she recognized as the Master and Mistress of the Royal Guard. They sat together, conferring in low voices. They wore leather pants and form-fitting tops. There were twin blades tucked into their belts. Sai, she realized. They were good weapons - highly versatile, the tri-pronged blades could fight at close range, be hurled long range, and could catch other blades within their tines and snap them if a skilled practitioner was behind the sai. The blades looked like they'd been etched with mystical symbols, and the blades no doubt had magical properties.

It was the last figure that Jenny did not know. She looked rather vague, and was dressed all in white. She wore white pants and no shoes, a breezy white shirt, and a white cloak. She stood out like a beacon with her pale blonde hair and complexion. Jenny realized the girl was blind, and yet she gave the impression with her cloudy blue eyes that she could see right through you. Probably a Seer, yet she was like no Seer Jenny had ever laid eyes on. The Master and Mistress kept her in their hindsight the whole time they were talking, and Jenny had an impression that the girl was important in some way.

"Oh, sit down and stop fretting so, Janna. Your part is largely done," Mathu said after a moment. Jenny turned and stared at him. He was sneering again. He looked so arrogant, sitting there in _her_ chair deciding the fate of someone that he'd never met and likely didn't care about…he didn't deserve to be the Lord.

"Jenny."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, almost mockingly.

"My. Name. Is. Jenny." She enunciated each word coldly, as if she were talking to a rather troublesome teenager in her computer class. He narrowed his eyes, and she met his glare head on. This night had been hard enough on her. There was no way that she was going to be talked down to by this arrogant son of a bitch just because _she_, unlike him, had feelings.

He opened his mouth to reply when Marie-Claire made a cutting gesture with her hand. "Enough, Mathu. This is hard for her; hold your peace." It had been so long since she'd heard Marie-Claire's soothing, calming contralto that for a moment she flashed back to when she was small and longing for her mother, so far away…

_Janna sat, staring forlornly at the broken wooden doll. It had fallen on a sharp rock, and the arm had snapped off. It was one of the few things that she had been allowed to bring with her, and now it was broken. She fought down the urge to cry, as she had done for days. It was so unfair! She didn't want to be here, on this stupid woodsy, strange little island!_

"_What's wrong, child?" a voice asked from behind her. She turned to behold a beautiful woman, staring at her with such compassion that Janna felt she could trust her instantly._

"_Ma dolle," she said, holding up the broken thing. The woman smiled gently._

"_Ne pleur pas, ma petite belle," she answered gently. "Regarde." With that she hummed a little note, a sort of tune that put Janna in the frame of mind of someone dancing in the woods, deep in the heart, surrounded by wood, strong and true. She stared at the woman as the doll was suddenly whole again._

_With a mysterious smile, the woman kissed Janna on the forehead and walked away. Janna stared after her in wonder for a long, long time_.

Jenny bit her lip. She'd been so young, so innocent once. Once, Marie-Claire had been capable of calming her with just a word. Now, grown so far apart from the Lady, Jenny didn't know if anything, not even her rich voice, would make her feel as young and innocent as she had once been, so long ago.

"Hard? The creature is within our grasp, finally! The prophesied Door has been found! We should be happy that we had the foresight to place her here that she may warn us while we can still stop it, not moping for a half-demon!" Mathu exclaimed, apparently assuming that his reason would win over a woman's heart any day. The entire room went deathly still when Jenny stalked across it in two strides and slapped him across the face as hard as she possibly could.

She pulled back her stinging palm as Mathu stared up at her, too flabbergasted to respond. "How _dare_ you?!" she demanded, enraged. "_His_ name is Xander Harris, and he has just spent the last two years of his life fighting the forces of darkness on the Hellmouth because he _chose_ to, because it was the right thing to do! He's saved _my_ life before! So don't you _dare_ stand there in judgment of an innocent soul that you've never met, because if we go through with this we are killing him as sure as the Stoírm will!"

"You dare to question _us_?!" he snarled, leaping to his feet. She refused to move, glaring up at him fiercely. Marie-Claire leapt to her feet, waving her hands. Instantly an invisible wall sprang up between Jenny and Mathu, separating them.

"Stop this at once!" she snapped, her voice no longer soothing, but icy with anger. "Mathu, you have been on the Isle too long!" she reprimanded her counterpart. As he opened his mouth to protest, she went on over him. "The boy is indeed an innocent entity, and as necessary as his death is, it is still a tragedy that all should feel sorry needs to occur!"

She glared at him, every inch the Lady of the Isle, until he dropped his gaze before her righteous fury.

"I am sorry, milady…but surely you see that this is also a blessing? A chance to rid ourselves of that fear which has plagued our Coven for so long?" he argued.

"I must see it that way, Mathu," she answered softly. "But that does not make this a happy occasion." She turned to Jenny. "And you forget yourself. Whether you agree with him or not, he is still Lord of the Isle which you paid your homage to long ago," she remanded. Jenny had the infuriating feeling of being again five years old and being forced to explain why what she did was wrong.

But she was no longer a child, and she was being put through a crucible she'd never really been prepared for. She shrugged to what had once been her High Priestess and turned away. She could feel the shocked stares of the Master and Mistress of the Guard at her rudeness, but she didn't care. They were in her house, forcing her to do their whim. They could deal with it.

Marie-Claire chose not to respond to Jenny's literal cold shoulder and instead turned to her Guards. "We must make haste to the thing's resting place. I can feel the creature's power growing. Soon, if we do not complete our mission, I fear it may break the mortal and be returned to this world…forever."

**888**

Buffy caught herself slowing down again and sped her pace up. She needed to get this thing done before the Sun came up, and it was looking like it was creeping toward pre-dawn already. She checked herself, again, for stakes, knowing already that she'd find three in her belt, two in her sleeves, and other one already in hand. She'd stocked up at Willy's, breaking the furniture to furnish herself.

She knew that she was really avoiding the issue that was making her slow her steps in the first place, but Denial Land was still a nice place to live right now.

She'd _known_, right from the start, that Xander had gone with Angelus at least semi-willingly. She'd _known_ that Angelus had said _something_ that had made Xander choose to go with him. Known that Angelus had probably been stalking Xander. She had thought she'd dealt with it a little after Xander's initial disappearance. But wondering why Xander had gone and having an inkling were two different things.

She'd known that Xander had been doing a lot of thinking about his life around the time Angel had…turned…but…well, had he been wondering if he was gay? Did he think that this was something that he couldn't tell her? or Willow? or even Giles? Did he think that they would freak out about it? What if he _was_ gay and had been macking on Angel while she was with him? What would she think about it?

By all accounts, Angelus had been taking care of Xander while they'd been…she didn't even think the word. What if Angelus wasn't raping Xander? What if Xander had been…seduced? What if it wasn't that difficult for Angelus to do it in the first place? What if it had been difficult and Xander had allowed himself to…do…_that_ with the ultimate evil vampire? Good God, she didn't think she could deal with this!

Okay. Stop. Prioritize. Could she deal with the fact that Xander might be gay? Sure. She wasn't interested in him that way, and, sure, it would be a little weird, considering how he'd freaked at Larry coming out and how he'd avidly chased girls, but, hey. He was Xander. The fact that he might end up with a nice husband instead of a wife? Not that big a deal. (Not to mention that every girl so far that had reciprocated his interest had been a demon - even for Sunnydale Xander had the weirdest luck…)

Following that line of logic, if Xander had a crush on her Angel, could she deal with _that_? That part she wasn't sure of. Because that way could lead to some serious bitterness what with the she had had Angel and he would end up with Angelus. Could she hate Xander for this, if indeed his choice had been based on that, which she wasn't even sure of? The petty part of her wanted to scream YES! with flashing signs, but the more adult part of her said no. Emotions were emotions, and they always fucked you up (witness her own experience with this truth).

The next theory: could she deal with it if Xander had been seduced by Angelus but had no interest in guys or Angel before that? Now, that was a big iffy. Because she wanted to say that she'd always love Xander. He was her Xander-puppy, her big guy friend who she could hug and trust to be stupid funny when she needed to be cheered up. And, sure, it had been kind of an ego boost to have someone you just _knew_ was a little in love with you around, in a petty, mean sort of way. But if he had fallen for an evil demon that they'd been trying to kill for months? What then? Had Angelus used some sort of torture to twist Xander's thinking? Could they…_cure_ Xander of wanting Angelus, if this were the case?

Or the most disturbing theory of all: Xander hadn't actually willingly gone with Angelus, and had been being tortured and raped by her ex-beau all this time. God, if Xander ever did come out of this…coma that he was in now, would he ever want to even talk to her again? If Angelus had been hurting him like…_that_ for all of this time, would he forgive her for not being able to kill him? Could she forgive _herself_ for not being able to kill Angelus?

She forced herself to realize that tonight, these thoughts were external and irrelevant. She could have plenty of time for teen angst later…_after_ she found a way to make Xander live. Then she could either pummel/kill him or hug him and give him lots of chocolate, depending.

She realized with a start that she was at the Funeral Home, and she froze in her tracks. There were two vamps guarding the perimeter, and they hadn't seen her because she was currently behind a small, picturesque copse of trees. She quickly made sure she was completely hidden as she drew another stake from her belt, arming both hands as she checked the roof. They were in front of the main doors, and she was willing to bet the heavy metal side door was locked beyond her ability to get in. There was no way to get in undetected.

She also noticed that there was three stakes nailed to ground outside the Funeral Home, with what looked like the scattered, ashy outline of a vampire in it. She wondered what vampire had done something so bad to earn the ultimate vampiric ceremonial punishment, and realized that it was probably the vamp that had tipped Cordelia off as to where Angelus was located. Buffy shrugged and didn't pay it a second thought as she began to finalize her plan.

**888**

Angelus sat on the red chair minions had pulled into the crypt on his orders. He, Spike, and Drusilla were holding court there, because the best of the blood was hidden there. They'd used it to heal their wounds, and had been very reserved in their hunting in the day since the explosion. Early this night, Spike and Dru had followed his orders and gone to the different vampires who existed outside of the Court, getting them to agree to join. Most were strong loners who had been singled out because of their strength…and their eagerness to join Angelus' hunt against the Slayer.

The Slayer…that bitch, that fucking _cunt_, he thought viciously. When he got his hands on dear, sweet Buffy, he'd put her through the most horrendous torture, both mental and physical, that he could possibly devise. He'd make her live as she watched him torture and kill her friends, and then her mother, and then he'd hunt up in LA for her father. He'd make her crazier than Drusilla before he threw her on his bed and fucked her to death. He'd rip out her spine and drink his fill on her Slayer's blood before he took off her head and mounted it on his fucking _wall_. She'd taken away his _boy_.

Angelus felt the loss of Xander like a wound, a constant ache in his dead heart that no matter how hard he tried he could not ignore. Their shared Claim had gone deeper than anything Angelus had ever felt or heard of. He'd been so fucking _aware_ of the boy…when they fucked, it had been the closest thing to heaven a demon could possibly get. The way he'd felt the boy feeling him, the way he'd sensed Xander's thought and Xander had sensed his. He'd felt close to Darla - she was his Sire and his lover, his mother and his wife. He'd thought he'd been bound to her…but his every thought had focused on Xander. The pain of his loss was like a knife had been lodged in his heart, constantly cutting into him, slicing, biting. Every time he thought it was easing a fresh cut would send waves of agony through him.

It was this pain that fed his anger, his rage. He would see Buffy _burn_ for what she'd done to him! His Xander was gone…dead. He felt like sobbing. Him, the great Angelus, a master vampire, a powerful demon who'd once killed Eyghon while trapped inside this human body, and at the thought of being without his Xander, he just wanted to…_cry_. Like that souled pussy Angel, he just wanted to curl up in the dark, alone. Not even Spike and Drusilla could console him, though the thought of sending them away made him want to torch Sunnydale to the ground.

He knew that Xander was dead. At first, he'd nursed a hope that his boy had survived the explosion, but his senses had slowly returned to him. If Xander was alive, he'd feel it through their Claim. True, sometimes he felt faint twinges, as if Xander was in trouble and needed him desperately. This only fueled the sorrow, only made the pain so much more rich, so much worse. He knew that this was the greatest torture he could ever feel, would ever feel. Not even killing Darla had hurt this bad, and god how both demon _and_ soul had sobbed that night.

The sound of a scuffle outside the crypt, and both he and Spike leapt to their feet. Drusilla, however, swayed off to the side, an odd smile playing about her lips. She was in the midst of a vision, Angelus knew, but he could spare her no attention. He looked to Spike, who nodded tersely and moved to flank the door. Angelus suddenly got a whiff of the fight, and jerked his head away from the door. Spike got the hint and leapt away, which was a good thing, because Buffy the Vampire Slayer was suddenly through the door, followed by ten minions and hurling one through the door in case there was someone waiting to take off her head (someone like Spike, for instance).

Angelus felt his hatred harden and solidify into molten magma at the sight of her. But he stood in slight…was it nervousness? For the Buffy that he'd known seemed completely gone in the Slayer before him; she was dressed all in leather and covered in blood and vampire dust. She looked dangerous, a hunter dressed for the kill. He stepped forward and roared a deep, lion's roar of rage. His minions cowered away from her, and even Buffy looked taken aback. As well she should, he thought furiously. She had taken him away from his boy, had led to Xander's death! She'd pay! He started forward furiously, but stopped, startled, when she held up her hands and threw her stakes down to the floor.

"I'm here to talk," she snapped.

"I'm not interested in listening, bitch," he snarled.

"Oh, I have a feeling you are," she responded. "Or I would have been dead as soon as those stakes hit the floor."

"Oh, god, you're not here to insist that I still want you, are you? Cuz, gotta tell ya, Buff, I've got better moves out of fourteen year olds before," he taunted. God, how could he have been fooled? She was just here because she wanted her precious Angel back. What a dumb bitch; no wonder she hadn't even tried to kill him till now.

"No, numb nuts," she snapped back angrily. "I'm here to talk about Xander."

Just hearing his precious name on that bitch's lips was enough to make him snarl and snap his fangs. "He's _dead_, you dumb fucking slut! YOU KILLED HIM!" he roared.

"He's not dead, you fucking IDIOT!" she screamed right back at him.

"Xander's alive?" Angelus leapt on this. She glared at him furiously.

"Yes - now let me finish talking," she bit off coldly. They both glared at each other, two powerful champions of opposing Powers. Once, they'd been lovers, comrades, friends. Now they were standing at opposite ends of crypt, glaring daggers at each other, each wondering if the other was going to snap and attempt to kill them.

"Continue, then, Slayer," he finally ordered imperiously. She gave him an annoyed glare, but she shook her head and stepped forward.

"We need to know what you guys did to him, because whatever mojo you worked on Xander? It's killing him. He's only got hours left. And you're my _only_ chance to figure out what the hell you did to him and find some way to reverse it because if we don't he's going to be dead or worse - and I _know_ that in some twisted demon way you don't want that to happen. Help me, Angelus. Help _him_," she pleaded. Passion twisted her voice as she stared at this man, this vampire who had once made her feel so safe. A haven. Now she was pleading with him to not kill her and to save her best friend, who was possibly his lover.

"What the hell do you mean, he's dying?" Angelus snapped, panicked. "How? Nothing _we_ did should have hurt him - if anything it should have freed him from his bonds," he whispered, almost to himself. Inside, his demon was ranting _Who fucking cares my boy is alive he lives I need him go to him help her help him take him back!_

"I mean that either he's turning into a demon or a demon is taking over his body, but the transformation is _killing_ him! Just help me fucking _stop_ it!" she yelled, taking a furious step toward him. He stepped right up and they stood, nose to nose, each daring the other to back down, neither taking a step backwards.

"So, what? You prance down here and expect me to help your little friend? Why should I care? Maybe this was my plan all along," he sneered.

"It wasn't. I saw your face when I said that he wasn't dead. Now, I don't understand what's gone on between you two - hell, I don't _want_ to understand right now," she said baldly. "But Xander's…he's our _Xander_," she said desperately. "I _need_ him to not die, and I know that you do too, in some twisted way. I'm _begging_ you," she whispered, defeated. "Help him. _Please_."

Angelus stared into her eyes, saw the tears lurking behind the Ice Queen exterior. And maybe his Xander _was_ alive, because it was some twinge of the conscience he'd shared with the boy that made him want to take that pain away. He sighed, cursing himself for a damn fool, and fixed his thoughts on his boy. If Xander was alive, and his boy needed him, then damn it there wasn't a _choice_ here. He had to help him.

"I'll help him. _Him_, not _you_, Slayer," he snarled softly. "This thing is _not_ over between us."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she snapped, the weakness he'd glimpsed in her eyes gone. "But can you stop hosing me down with testosterone? We need to go _now_." He sneered at her as he grabbed his duster. Spike was holding Drusilla, watching him.

"Keep her here, and find somewhere else to move the minions. I'll have to have a talk with Willy about who he gives information to," he ordered Spike as he got ready to leave.

"Not really, actually," Buffy said conversationally. "I blew up his bar and killed everything in it." Spike turned and stared at her like he hadn't really seen her before, and Buffy looked back at him. Angelus watched this interplay with shock. No. He refused to register it in his brain as he turned to regard the Slayer…who was suddenly on his left.

He jerked around in time to see her grab Drusilla and whip out a hidden stake. "And I'm taking _her_ as an insurance policy," she said coldly. Angelus and Spike both made furious moves toward her, but she placed a stake quite calmly over Drusilla's heart. They both froze. "Angelus, you need me to take you to Xander, and Spike, if you move or send anyone after us so that you can attack us and Angelus can take Xander, your precious girlfriend's dust," Buffy said placidly, and Angelus cursed himself. Of _course_ this new Buffy would think of something like this to cover her ass. Hunh. If there wasn't a Xander, he himself would be attracted to this new version of the Slayer. Interesting.

"Sire," Spike said desperately, staring at the wickedly sharp stake over Drusilla's heart.

Before Angelus could speak, Dru herself cut in. "Don't worry, Spike. Princess is going to see little brother and make him better again. He's all split in two and lost in his own head, and Daddy's got to help to bring him back," she sing-songed. Angelus and Spike regarded her, but she simply looked at them calmly.

"You heard the lady," Buffy said. "Let's move."

Angelus led the way out of his temporary base of operations as Spike stared after them. But of the three, he could not tell who he was really staring at more: his Sire, his princess, or the Slayer. Or maybe all three. He sighed heavily as the door swung shut behind them. He couldn't be in love with three people. It was too much, even for him: God, he might as well put a bloody collar on his neck with the tag "Love's Bitch" on it for all to see.

He sighed again, disgusted with himself and his thoughts, as he went to fulfill his Sire's orders and empty the Funeral Home of vampires. He'd have to find a way to get them all somewhere they could hide from the piercing rays of the cruel, cruel sun.

And he refused to think about how the Slayer's hair reminded him of the Sun of his youth. Nope. Wouldn't go there at all. _Ever._

A/N: Dum dum dum! Hah! I _told_ you guys that I was going to finish this before I left, and now I have! I can go on vacation guilt free! Meh! So - _is_ Spike…_noticing_ Buffy? What'll happen between Angelus and Buffy, and Angelus and Xander? What's going on with Xander, and Jenny? I have so many questions to answer that the next chapter might have to be _another_ exhaustively long chapter. Guh.

And don't worry - Xander and Angelus are going to be speaking together again next chapter - but come on! All good Xangel stories have to have _some_ angst in them, else they wouldn't be set in the Buffyverse.

Oh, and BTW: those of you who don't remember Marie-Claire, see second prologue.

That's all for now, so I'll leave you guys with the best line from the Harry Potter books _ever_.

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

- Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone_

Have a good one, and I'll see you next chapter!


	20. XVIII Blood, Chocolate & Ashes

A/N: Sorry to leave you guys hanging for a little bit, there, but this time I actually have a good few excuses. Here's the sitch: My aunt died a little bit ago -- it was totally crazy: she was in Brazil, caught a parasite, and I found out she was in the hospital only about three hours before she died.

Not to be outdone, of course, my immediate family had a crisis: my sister had a total fugue thing -- she blacked and when she woke up we found that she'd driven herself about an hour and a half away and seemed to be heading for my other sister's house. She has absolutely no memory of this.

So I don't even feel guilty for not writing until this late. Bear with me; I'm working through some serious shit on this. So this chapter isn't going to have the happiest ending. There. I said it!

Sorry. I just needed to get that out.

So I'm just going to say that I have no idea when I'm going to finish this chapter; or if I'm going to be able to post it by the time I head out, so I'll just start it because, in case you hadn't noticed, my _Passion_ Muse is working overtime (and Goddess bless Her, too, because I still feel really bad when I think of the huge amount of time I left this on hiatus). I'm not sure if this chapter is going to be a big long one or a short one or somewhere in the middle. I'm not sure what's going to end it off - as a cliffhanger or a definitive ending. It's just going to be what it's going to be.

And I hope that the soundtracks that I posted earlier are working for some people; reading just clicks better for me when I listen to music with it. Writing too; so you had better be grateful for music, cuz without it I doubt I'd ever finish anything that I started. But do any of _you_ have a song that you think fits this fic? I'd love to hear from you - it's always nice to get some new tunes to spin.

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XVIII

Blood, Chocolate & Ashes

_Fire spun around him like he was at the heart of the sun. Everywhere was burning, burning; he screamed in agony as he felt that integral part of himself that was _him_ start to burn away too. Darkness reigned in the air and lava melted the floor; he had no sense of time or space. Down was up, left was right; vertigo was the name of the day as he spun spun spun into the furnace of wherever the hell this was._

_He heard nothing, saw nothing but the agony. He couldn't move anymore, couldn't try to see if any of his friends were there. There was only this…this _hell_ that he had no idea why he was here he didn't deserve to burn burn burn this hot like white metal and he screamed in pain so hard and loud his lungs seared with the rest of him._

"_Angelus!"_

**888**

Buffy walked behind Angelus, keeping him carefully in front of her. Drusilla was next to her, and Buffy kept a wary eye on her as well, though the insane vampiress seemed content to go wherever the Slayer led her. Her threat to Spike seemed to have worked; no vampires were following them, at least none that Buffy could see or sense. It was odd to think of Spike's bond to Drusilla - it made her think of Xander and Angelus. Could Angelus…_feel_, in his psychotic, daemonic way? She shied away from the thought and forced herself to think of something else.

Disturbingly, another vampire came to mind: Spike. What had that…_look_ meant, when their eyes had met? She shuddered thinking of it. Okay, so Spike was attractive, in a very Spike sense: he had the most electric blue eyes she'd ever seen -- _**Not**__ going there,_ she told herself sternly. _That way lies madness_. Sure, Spike was attractive. He was also evil and had made it his mission in life to see her dead, and had done everything in his power to make it so.

"I should have known you'd take him to the Watcher's," Angelus said, breaking the silence that had held them for the last fifteen minutes of walking. "It was either there or the library. Really, Slayer, you're far too predictable." His voice was cutting, cold, and sarcastic. Buffy sighed. She _so_ wasn't in the mood to trade words with Angelus right now.

"Look, Angelus, I get that you're evil and everything, but after everything that you've put us through I'm just fucking tired," she snarled. "I am physically and emotionally fucking exhausted, and I'm fully prepared to put a stake in this bitch's heart and sit back with you and watch Xander die unless you _shut the hell up_!"

"Don't you fucking _dare_--" Angelus started, turning around, sporting a game face and a snarl, but Drusilla stepped forward and put a hand on his mouth.

"Hush, my Angel," she ordered. Angelus gave her an annoyed look and made to move her aside, but she wouldn't budge. "You must not push dear Buffy - she pushes back now and is not a nice puppy any longer. We must hurry to little brother, or he will be lost!" she whispered, clutching her head with a whimper. Angelus sighed and motioned for Buffy to continue.

Buffy knew that for all his words and attitude, Angelus really didn't have a choice in this. She'd wanted for so _long_ to have him in her power like this.

Somehow, under these circumstances, it was a hollow victory.

**888**

Willow woke up to silence in the apartment, a sort of heavy sleepiness that made her think of the spell that the good fairies had put Sleeping Beauty's kingdom under when the princess had pricked her finger. She'd always enjoyed that story, but she felt claustrophobic under this sleepy blanket; it was like the air was heavy with holding its breath, the calm before the kinds of storms that wiped towns away in the blink of an eye.

She gently moved Oz's protective arm off of her with a small smile. Even in the midst of all of this she sometimes couldn't understand her own good fortune with the werewolf. She'd thought herself small, geeky, and unlovable, until Oz had come and convinced her that to at least one person she was beautiful. She laid a shy kiss on his brow as she slowly got up, and he twitched in his sleep, moving toward her. She headed for the bathroom, even though her throat still felt dry from last…night! _It's already morning!_ she thought in panic as she saw that the clock read five o'clock.

She hurried to pee, and then ran into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water that she devoured as greedily as a vampire drinking blood, and then she ran up the stairs, not caring how loud her footsteps were as she threw herself into Giles' bedroom. There sat Cordelia next to the bed, asleep against a wall. There sat Giles on the floor, dozing. And there was Xander…or at least what was left of him, curled up on the bed.

Then…he opened his eyes.

Xander's warm chocolate eyes regarded her with a confused expression, as if trying to place her, trying to figure out who she even was. "Willow?" His voice was so small, so full of confusion and pain and fear that her heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces at the sound of it. "Help me…"

Then, suddenly, he screamed in pain, and all hell broke loose.

**888**

"Our best course of action is to go to the Doorway while he is still asleep, and ascertain how bad it is, and what to do from there," Marie-Claire said decisively. Mathu looked ready to argue, _again_, but he held his council when she silenced him with one of her trademark icy glares. The Master and Mistress of the Guard both stood as silently as they always moved, and waited for further orders.

Jenny stared into the depths of her wineglass. She'd poured herself another one around four, and she hadn't stopped there. She thanked the Goddess that no one had decided to comment on it, because she didn't think she'd be able to stop. She found herself wishing for bourbon, or whiskey. Something strong that burned all the way down, down, down, she thought. Something that would get her so drunk that she'd not be able to really think about what the hell she was going to do when they got to Rupert's apartment.

Because she'd have to make a choice, in the end. Whether she stood with the Coven or whether she chose to leave it after this. Could she stand by and watch them…_end_ Xander, as they were likely to do? Could she _not_, when she knew what could be coming on the not-so-distant horizon if what had been unleashed through Xander came to full fruition? She sighed and threw back the wine, swallowing it quickly as the bitter taste permeated her mouth. _Everything about today is bitter_, she thought morosely as she saw the distant sunrise.

She wondered how much of a fight she'd have to watch when they arrived at Rupert's. She wondered whether the Watcher in him would demand that he acquiesce to the Moon Coven, or if the wonderful, honorable man she'd come to love would rise and try to throw them all bodily out of his apartment. Either way, it would cut both him and her in ways that might never be able to be mended.

The delicate, blind Seer suddenly screamed in pain and fell to her knees, whimpering as she clutched her head in both hands. Everyone jumped as they stared at the petite young woman as she started babbling in a language Jenny had never even heard, but she thought she could pick out snatches of something recognizable as the girl begged Selene, the mighty warrior Goddess of the Moon, to help her block the images she Saw out of her mind.

"Larana, what's wrong?" Marie-Claire asked, desperately pulling the girl's hands away from her face. "Tell us what you See!"

The blonde lifted her face, her blind eyes staring straight ahead and filling with tears for something that they could not comprehend as she whispered "He is risen, and all is darkness!"

**888**

Buffy felt wild with relief when the stepped into the courtyard of Giles' apartment, thankful yet again for both the shade and the privacy it afforded. The Sun was rising in the distance, and both Angelus and Drusilla looked sick about it. She needed them alive (in a manner of speaking) to get this done, so she hustled them towards the door. That was when they heard Willow scream, scream in such a way that Buffy had never heard before. There was fear, pure unadulterated terror in her friend's voice, but also heartbreak and sorrow.

"Xander!" Angelus roared and threw himself into the apartment - or he tried, before he bounced off of the invisible barrier they'd constructed when they'd found the Disinvitation Spell. "_Let me in, Slayer!_" he howled, sounding positively deranged. His face was in its demonic and looked fiercer and angrier than she'd ever seen it as his claws plowed into the spell barrier again and again. Drusilla dropped to her knees, clutching her head and whimpering with terror. Buffy didn't need to be told twice; she threw herself through the doorway and screamed behind her "Come in!" to Angelus and Drusilla as she ran for the stairs.

She never reached them, not before Willow, Giles, and Cordelia, all screaming, flew through the banister with a nasty crunch and fell to the ground with a heart-stopping thud that stopped Buffy in her tracks. She ran to them as Angelus sprinted toward the stairs and Oz ran to Willow, but then Angelus suddenly flew through the air and landed next to them.

Buffy stared at the stairway in horror as…_something_ stepped up at the second floor landing, staring down at them calmly. It walked toward the break in the banister and jumped down, spreading its wings slightly so that it landed on its feet as lightly as a feline. Buried in there was Xander, she tried to remind herself. But the demon's features were harsh and angular where Xander's had been slightly rounded and welcoming, horns sprouted from its forehead, black veins arced over its body, and its hair was ebon black and spiked out with some form of electricity.

Its body was powerfully muscular, with a marble tinge save for the black veins. The black wings spread like inkblots until they took up half the living room, and the thing spread its hands and displayed fearsome claws at the end. Fangs, long and wicked sharp as a viper's grew in its mouth, and when it opened its eyes they were glowing yellow, with no pupil or iris. Just yellow, burning hot with power and pure evil. Buffy jerked away from it as every sense in her body, Slayer and otherwise, screamed about this thing's power and its evil and how she wanted to be three countries away from it before she stopped running.

The demon's eyes narrowed when it saw her, and then it threw back its head and sniffed the air. It smirked when it caught her scent, and opened its mouth. "_**Slayer**_," it said, but its voice was multilayered and freaky as hell. She heard Xander's voice and a deep evil baritone voice and a light whispering voice and an animal growl all at once when it spoke, and it sent shudders through her.

"Xander?" she whispered, hope withering and dying in her heart at the thing's smile.

"_**Not anymore**_," it said, and then in blink of wings it was next to her and its fist was flying through the air. It hit her like a freight train and she flew maybe five feet before a wall obligingly met her back, stopping her flight. She screamed in pain and slid down, stars dancing before her eyes as she landed, shuddering. It laughed, sounding like nails on a chalkboard as it flexed and spread its wings, marveling in its own body.

She was surprised to realize that the hysterical sobbing was coming from her.

**888**

"We have to run!" Marie-Claire screamed behind her as she sprinted down Willshire Boulevard, the rest of them fighting to keep up. Jenny was trailing behind with the Master and Mistress of the Guard, both of whom were carrying a struggling Laurana, who was still whimpering and lashing out at the visions in her mind.

"Why don't we just teleport?" Mathu asked exasperatedly as he labored to keep up. He was more out of shape than he would have liked to admit, and he hated that Marie-Claire seemed to be having less trouble than most of them. His cheek was still stinging where that stupid little bitch had slapped him, and as he felt a stitch in his side he glared with absolute hatred at the Lady of the Lake as she sprinted in front of him.

He sighed, dismissing this. The rest of them could hold as many romantic notions as they liked about sparing the insignificant little bastard who was possessed by the creature, but soon they'd see things his way. He felt the waves of power they were following call to him, and he kept silent as he felt a dark part of him answering to that call with a wild freedom that the rest of him envied as he ran along.

What would happen to that song of power he could hear when they killed the creature? He shook his head as he found himself wanting it to continue.

**888**

Angelus stared up at the creature that had taken over _his_ boy, _his_ Xander, and he felt a bolt of pure rage dance through his being as he threw himself to his feet. The thing turned to him, and for a moment he tried desperately to see Xander in the demon in front of him. He had a disorienting feeling of what it must have felt like for his family before they'd died, and he shook it off irritably. He had to find a way to get Xander back before…

"Xander!" he yelled, warily circling the thing. He'd seen just how fast it was, and felt how hard it hit; he didn't want to end up like the Slayer, who was only now getting to her feet.

"_**Simple creature**_," the beast said scornfully, the sneer twisting its face only adding to the ugliness of its being. "_**Did you truly not suspect how I played you for the fool you are? You were merely a pawn in my game, and you rose to the occasion magnificently**_." The pure experience of listening to this thing's voice, the unbridled power and rage and unadulterated evil that slammed into you all at once, like a sensory overload, was enough to make even the mighty Angelus flinch back.

"Pawn?" he demanded angrily, trying to regain his equilibrium. "I'm no one's pawn!"

"_**Oh, but of course you are**_," it said with an amused smirk. "_**Ever since that stupid cunt of a Slayer wandered into town it has gotten harder and harder to tempt our precious Xander to finding me…until you came, and tempted him for me**_."

"No," Angelus snarled flatly.

"_**Yes**_," the beast said with a calm arrogance. "_**All I had to do was wave a few flags in your face about his heritage and you were leaping to Claim your Cruor Aduro without a thought to how this information really came to you. You…vampires**_" it spat the word out distastefully, like a curse, "_**are all the same. You dare to call yourselves demons when at your core you are more human than human beings. You are a plague among our kind that I will gladly purge this world of, when my brethren and I resume our rightful Thrones.**_"

It roared in unexpected pain when Buffy took the opportunity of having the thing distracted and leapt up, grabbing onto Giles' chandelier and using it to swing herself like Tarzan into the demon's head, her heeled boot slamming into the back of its head with a nasty smacking noise. It stumbled, losing the feline grace as it tried to find its footing.

"What the fuck are you _doing_, Slayer?!" Angelus roared. "Xander's still in there!" He was torn between wanting to join her in beating the hell out of the creature and wanting to throttle her for touching his boy…or what was left of him.

"We need him unconscious, jackass!" she screamed at him as she pressed her advantage, grabbing the thing's head and slamming it face-first into her leather-clad knee. She yelped in pain as one of its horns tore through the material, and shoved it off of her, slamming her foot into its face.

"Damn it," Angelus cursed, and leapt on the creature's back, trapping its wings before it could gain its equilibrium. He squeezed his arm around its throat, trusting the still humanoid body that it was possessing to still need air to remain conscious. He refused to think of Xander, only thinking of the fight at hand. He'd survive this, he vowed to himself.

Buffy used the distraction on the demon's back and slammed her fist into its solar plexus, making the already gasping creature struggle even more for breath. She leapt up to its face and slammed her hand over its mouth, plugging its nose in the process. The demon roared in frustration and grabbed her by the waist, crushing her until she yelled and let go of its face. It then swung her up in the air like a rag doll and slammed her body into Angelus' face. Angelus roared in pain but clung on like a burr, tenaciously tightening its grip on the creature's throat.

"Buffy!" Willow screamed, just coming around. She ran to her fallen friend, but the demon lashed out with a foot, and Willow had to throw herself to the floor to avoid the kick. Her hair ruffled in the breeze of its passing, and she shuddered as the cold wind washed over her. Angelus was thankful for that purely because he knew that if they ever _did_ get Xander back he'd never forgive himself if his possessed body hurt Willow.

As the demon renewed its struggles for freedom, Angelus grimly held on. _Fight it, Xander_, he thought desperately. _Fight for me. Come back to me…_

**888**

"Holy Christ on a stick," Cordelia whispered as she stumbled down what was left of Giles' staircase. Buffy, looking like she'd been through two meat grinders in the last couple of hours, was sluggishly climbing to her feet, shaking her head to clear it as Angelus was still grimly clinging to the thrashing _thing_ in his grasp. Willow had scuttled away from it and was next to Giles by the door as the Watcher was flipping through magic books from a chest, frantically searching for a curse.

She was no fighter, but she was no coward, either. Cordelia sighed and squared her shoulders, kicked off her pumps (no way was she letting Prada come into danger from that thing), and then she grabbed Giles' coat rack and ran down the stairs swinging. The Xander/Demon had enough time to look up and snarl at her before she connected solidly with its stomach. It was like hitting concrete; she felt the shock of the impact rumble all the way up her arm.

Her gambit seemed to have worked, however; the thing yelled in pain and abruptly wheezed as Angelus tightened his hold on the thing's throat. "Cordy, duck!" Buffy yelled, and Cordelia dropped as the Slayer pulled an aerial over Cordelia's head, her fist lashing out while she was in the air and landing solidly on the thing's forehead. Buffy landed lithely and then leapt back up in the air again as the thing's foot lashed out toward her.

Cordelia figured out her strategy at once: they wanted the thing unconscious to try and get Xander back, so Angelus was trying to strangle it unconscious as Buffy ran distraction to get rid of its energy. Cordelia picked her coat rack back up and waited until Buffy went in for another lightning quick rabbit punch to its head. She grimly raised her makeshift weapon and went in for another strike.

She might not have been a total Slayerette, but there was a powerful core of goodness inside Cordelia that not a lot of people glimpsed. Xander had been one of them, and he'd respected her for it, too. That in itself was enough to convince her that this was one fight that was worth it.

Willow gave up trying to help Giles with his books, not knowing what he was looking for, and went to help Cordelia. She was sapped still from her all-nighter; the magic had sapped the energy from her very core, and she was shaking from exhaustion. But this was Xander, her brother, her friend, her love in a subtle way that she couldn't even explain to herself. This was Buffy, her sister, her girlfriend, her confidante, who had been given a burden she should never have had to bear. Even Cordelia was there, and Willow would fight for her too.

She felt Oz at her side without even looking and knew that no matter the fight he'd be there for her. Inexplicably, irrevocably, unequivocally, he'd be there, and she knew that she loved him then with every fiber of her being, loved him more fiercely than she'd thought she was capable of.

She picked up a club from the weapons chest that had been knocked askew and leapt forward, bringing it solidly down on the thing's foot. It yelled in pain and stumbled, brought to its knees. Oz darted forward and jerked her out of its retaliatory swing. Willow cheered in victory as the thing wheezed and hacked, still desperately trying to get Angelus off of his back. But the determined vampire held on, despite the deep gauges the demon's claws were carving into its face, despite the strength of the wings he was crushing.

A suspicion formed in Willow's mind at the expression on Angelus' face, at the pain it was clearly costing him to fight this thing. She didn't say anything, though; she didn't think that she could. It this was what it took to fight this thing out of her Xander, then they could deal with the consequences later.

She screamed as she saw what was coming, but it was too late. The desperate demon had seen Buffy coming for it again, and grabbed her foot before she could jump again. The Slayer went down hard, the breath knocked out of her, and the Xander/Demon twisted, leaping high into the air and falling on its back, effectively dropping Angelus ten feet down to land on Buffy with bruising force.

Stunned, the vampire finally let go. The demon sucked in breath triumphantly, shouting as it spread its wings to their full extent. "_**Fools!**_" the demon gloated, its face lit up in hellish glee. "_**Did you honestly think that you could defeat ME?! I watched your pathetic race created, and we ruled you! This is the best you send after me? A novice witch, a Watcher, a Slayer, a human and a werewolf?**_" The scorn was dripping from its terrifying voice as it took a menacing step toward them.

"_**I will rule again -- you'll not stop me!**_"

"Oh, shut up!" Cordelia snapped coldly, and the demon froze as she stalked forward without a trace of fear in her face. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to, schmuck? Rule _me_?! _I'm_ the Queen here, you albino circus freak, and you're gonna listen to me when I tell you to get out of my friend right NOW!" she screamed in its face, utterly fearless.

You had to admire her at the moment, Willow reflected through her shock. Giles had no spells at his disposal, nor did she; Cordelia was standing next to the fallen bodies of their two strongest fighters, and there was not a tremor in her voice or body as she stared the thing down, regal as ever.

"_**Filthy human scum!**_" the thing screamed in rage.

"Who're _you_ calling filthy, you stanky little hellworm?" Cordelia barked. "You don't know who you've just pissed off, pal! I'll take you down! I'm not even kidding. We'll fight. I'll win. And then I'll have you tied on a leash, licking my hand like the dog you are!"

She'd finally gone too far, apparently; the demon roared so loud that Cordelia's hair blew back from her face and Willow clapped her hands over her ears. It's fist lashed out with blinding speed; it was only that Cordelia was already jerking back from the thing that saved her. She rolled with the punch, managing to not break anything as she went flying. But she heard a tearing. _No_, she thought. But it was true. She looked down at her torn shirt, shredded beyond repair, and felt rage fill her.

Praying that Buffy would realize her ploy, Queen C leapt to her feet.

"You skanky little fashion victim!" she screamed. "You corpse breath asshat! This was a one of a kind Vera Bradley fashion blouse!" With that, she threw herself forward toward her shocked assailant and swung the coat rack as hard as she possibly could.

She thanked every god and goddess she'd ever heard of that the thing was clearly as arrogant as it was powerful. The arrogance was what allowed her little plan to work: in what world could a lowly human attack its magnificence after it had hit the human? So it didn't block in time to stop the blow. And no matter how powerful you are, you'll notice when a big wooden pole with metal tines smashes into you face, right between your eyes.

Both of Cordelia's gambits paid off at once; the thing stumbled back with a howl of pain and Buffy and Angelus (who had scrambled to their feet while the thing was distracted by Cordelia's mouth, then skulked away from its vision as they waited for an opening) darted forward. Cordelia felt Buffy's tiny fist clench her shirt and then she was suddenly flung out of danger. Oz caught her, growling like the wolf he was as he stuffed her behind him with Willow as he crouched forward, snarling defensively.

It was breathtaking to watch the fight. On the one hand, there was the eerie, supernatural and freakish grace and speed of the Xander/Demon as it spun, using its wings and fists and feet with devastating effect. Then there was Angelus, who was raw strength bundled with skill, moving quicker than you'd think a man so big could move. And lastly there was Buffy, who, compact as she was, was no less strong, no less brutal than the demons she fought beside and with, but with infinite more finesse, more grace as she landed blow after blow on the thing's side.

Fist met skin and blow after blow rained down on the demon. The one thing that its kind always miscalculated in humans and humanlike creatures such as vampires was the raw emotion that they were capable of feeling. And Xander was just such a person as was capable of inspiring intense loyalty in those he was loyal to. Buffy fought like a wild woman for the boy that was like her brother, for the boy whose innocence and naïveté were like beacons of good, reminding her of that which she fought for. And Angelus fought tooth and nail, down to the last blow, for the boy who he had Claimed, who had somehow tamed a beast and forced the proud Angelus to feel that most hated of human emotions.

Under the combined onslaught, the demon finally folded, collapsing onto the floor. It held its hands up and moaned in pain. Buffy, cautious, took a step forward with her fist raised, but Angelus held her back with a hand on her throat. She whipped around to glare at him, but he shook his head furiously, baring his fangs and hissing cold as a viper.

He turned, very, very gently, to the quivering figure on the floor.

"Xander?" he murmured, his voice sibilant and gentle as it slid past razor-sharp fangs. "Xander, can you hear me?"

**888**

_A new world of pain, of lots of lots of pain, and he was in it. If he wasn't burning like a hunk of charcoal he was freezing, freezing like a block of ice in the North Pole freezing and somehow despite all of this he could feel that there was something _wrong_ like it wasn't even his body that he was in but someone else's. That or there was someone else in his body with him and didn't that squick him out just thinking of someone else in his body…_

_He drifted in his sea of agony, a little ship without rudder or crew, left to die, to flounder. Flounder. What a weird word, and isn't it odd how little stuff like Willow's insane vocabulary flit through his mind at times like this. Thinking of his friends is comforting now. He can draw strength from their strength._

_Willow's knowledge, the magic of her love, of Willow-hugs on days when his parents were extra bad._

_Buffy's strength, a core of steel as she fought so hard for a normal life but she is so much _better_ than normal, so much better than she allows herself to think she is._

_Giles' fathering, the way he always knows what to say and yet makes Xander work so much extra hard to get that approval._

_Cordelia's snark to keep him interested at the same time as she tries to hide from everyone the good part of her that's buried deep. If the Wicked Witch of the West ever had a good point, then so did Cordelia._

_Angel…Angelus…it was hard to navigate between the two. He loved them both equally, with passion that burned like fire and chilled like ice. It was an interesting sensation; like being in love with someone who has multiple personalities and loving the alternate personality as much as the real person._

_This leads to another thought of who is the _real_ Angel: the soul or the demon? Both? Thinking of Angel in either of his incarnations brings so much pain that Xander shrinks back from it. Thinking of Angelus and their passion together reminds him that he's alive. Xander has a sense that whatever's squatting inside of him doesn't like it when Xander kicks back inside his mind._

_This makes Xander angry, because he's always hated hated _hated_ to lose control, and to have it torn from him like this, not even giving him a choice, is even worse._

_He starts to feel dissociated from everything around him. It's odd, because he feels strangely like he's being hurt. By something. Someone?_

_Then there's something moving his lips and there's sounds coming out but he's not talking. And there's more pain. More darkness. He wants so bad to speak but he can't speak because something else is talking for him…_

**888**

"Angelus?" a tiny voice answered back, a Xander-voice, and the whole room froze. "I'm cold," the voice said, and the thing looked up and there was Xander's chocolate brown puppy eyes gazing up tragically at them all. "Buffy? Willow? Where am I?"

Buffy made a strangled noise at the pain in Xander's voice as the demon body shook and shivered, hunched in on itself. Willow shuddered and tried to step forward, but Oz stopped her with another growl. "Back off, Bucky," Cordelia snapped, but Oz snarled at her too and herded his charges away from the demon. His every sense was tingling with hellish magic and he would not let those he loved and called friends near that…_thing_.

"It's okay, Xander," Buffy whispered, stepping forward.

"Buffy, be careful," Giles said anxiously, watching his Slayer take a step toward what was both the most terrifying demon they'd ever faced and the boy that was like his son. Could they believe this? Was it a trick? Suddenly, his view was blocked by a book. He jerked back and started as he saw Drusilla holding a slim, ancient volume open to a specific page. She put a finger over her lips and danced slowly toward Angelus, a secret smile on her face.

"Angelus, she's scaring me," Xander's voice said feebly, and Drusilla let out a cackle worthy of a horror film.

"It thinks to fool with lies and tricks, but it cannot to those who would see it licked," she sing-songed. She pointed at the Xander/Demon and growled. "Lies! Make it stop telling lies about poor little brother, Daddy!" She stamped her foot.

"Shut up, Drusilla!" Buffy said shrilly. "You're scaring Xander--"

"No, she's not," Angelus said flatly.

"Angel?" Xander whispered weakly.

"You're not Xander," the vampire answered back flatly, rage making his voice shake. He could feel rage and fear as he felt that same ever present _wrongness_ with his Cruor Aduro, his boy, his _mate_ and he could do absolutely nothing about it, nothing to make the wrong stop and heal the hurt that he had somehow inadvertently been tricked into causing.

"LOOK OUT!" Willow screamed suddenly, tasting the power in the air. But it was of course too late; though the ruse itself had not worked, the demon had managed to buy itself time. It grinned and Xander's eyes disappeared to be replaced with the predator's eyes of the thing inside of him. It threw out its hands and a ripple of power displaced the air. It slammed into the Slayer and the vampire with the force of a Mack truck and threw them through the air. Buffy slammed through the stair banister and landed with a thud on the stairs, sliding down them and landing on her arm hard enough that everyone heard the crack of it breaking and winced. Angelus flew straight back into the door with a sickening thud and the door fell off its hinges. He rolled out into the deadly sunlight, coming to with a scream as his uncovered arm caught fire and he threw himself back into the apartment, rolling to a stop next to Giles.

"_**And so it ends in ashes**_," the thing whispered exultantly. It lifted its hands and a fireball appeared in them, growing huge and horrible. It was a hellish black flame that flickered like a freakish strobe, gaining heat as it grew.

"Bad dogs must be sent to bed!" Drusilla yelled, pointing accusingly at the demon. It turned to her and snarled like an angry lion as it took a step toward her. This was the distraction that Giles had been waiting for. He darted forward, grabbed Willow's hand, and threw his hand out and screamed "SOMNUS PER VOX DE LUNA!"

The effect was instantaneous; the thing toppled forward as if it had been hit over the head with a cast iron skillet and collapsed, the fireball extinguishing itself in its hands. Giles and Willow both collapsed, Willow into Oz's hands, Giles on the floor as his nose started gushing blood. Cordelia turned on shaky legs to survey the apartment…or what was left of it. And the Scooby Gang…or what was left of that, too.

The apartment looked like a grenade had been tossed in the front door. The furniture of the front room was crushed in pieces; torn to shreds. Giles' possessions lay shattered near the remains of his shelves, strewn about the room. The pictures had been knocked off the walls, while giant holes and chunks of the wall were scattered about. The rail of the stairs had been ripped apart in at least two places, and was bent in others. At the bottom of the stairs, Buffy was slowly struggling to her feet.

The Slayer had two spectacular black eyes around her busted nose. Blood ran over her face from several nasty looking scratches, and dripped from her busted lip. Her clothes were torn, hinting at more wounds, and her left arm was bent at a very wrong angle. Every movement, hell, _breathing_ was painful enough to knock her to her knees, but still Buffy stood. She knew no other way.

The doorway was destroyed and the door lay in ruins in the courtyard of the apartment. Angelus stood in the doorway, bleeding from half a dozen cuts, bruising all over. The strange, alien folds of his demonic face only made the sight more gruesome to behold. He was pale and trembling; he needed to feed soon or he'd snap. He shrugged out of his customary duster; the thing was destroyed from the creature's claws. Drusilla, the only one in the room who didn't look the worst for wear, went to aid her Sire.

Oz, who had mostly escaped unscathed other than some bruises, was helping Giles and Willow try and stand up. It had taken a large force of will from the Watcher and the witch to force the spell to work within the mind of the creature, and it was telling on them: their eyes looked like they'd have permanent bruising, and Giles nose was dripping blood. Willow was trembling with exhaustion, and when Oz finally got her to her feet she had to lean on him for support because her legs wouldn't hold her up. Giles managed to stagger to his feet and stumble toward Buffy.

Cordelia was going to have some nasty bruises, but she was only bleeding from a cut on her cheek, which she could feel would stop soon. Her shirt, her precious shirt, was trash, of course. She tried to remind herself that it was worth it, and consoled herself with the fact that her shoes were safe, at the very least. Completing her assessment (and hoping to hell that the Watcher's Council had some serious pay, because no way was Giles gonna be able to fix all of this), she hesitantly turned toward the Xander/Demon.

In sleep some of the horror of its appearance had been drained. It no longer radiated malice and power -- instead it had curled in on itself like a cat, its wings twitching slightly with every breath. There was a peace, boyish almost, on the thing's face that brought a powerful twist to her gut because of how much it reminded her of Xander whenever he was napping in the library. She felt a thrill of horror. Xander was such a creature of light, of sun and smiles -- this…_thing_ was a perversion of everything that Xander stood for. She choked back bile at the demonic features twisting Xander's features and turned away quickly, stifling a sob. She wouldn't cry. Not now. Later, when these idiots didn't need her strength, she could break down. But now Queen C squared her shoulders and headed off to her subjects.

**888**

_Well, the pain was gone, at the very least. He had a sense that his body was sleeping, but he really rather thought that he shouldn't be able to tell that. All he knew was that whatever was hurting him was asleep too. So he could relax. He couldn't control his body. But he could dream. Xander was a champion at dreaming, daydreaming especially. Xander didn't have the most impressive vocabulary, so when he and the girls played "Anywhere But Here" they always thought that he was unoriginal. But if they'd been able to get in his head when he was really using his overactive imagination, they'd be shocked._

_He closed his eyes and surrendered to the dream…_

Xander opened his eyes in the sunlight. It was the most amazing place where he was. He was safe and warm, and he knew that he was safe in that absolute belief that a child has. He delighted in that childish truth. He was innocent as a child. Safe as a child. Because when you're a child, you know that all is good. The world is good and safe, and God's in Heaven, and He (She) has always got His (Her) eye on you. It's when you get older that you suddenly have to question stuff. You learn stuff. And it hurts.

He sat up and found himself on a hill of the softest grass he'd ever felt in his life. It was like laying in feathers, but so much better because you could just smell that first day of summer smell in the air, and the clouds were like swirly buttermilk, shaping out stories that he could read all day if he could just lie on his back alone and not care about anything else. The air hummed as if with some secret magic that somehow he could feel in every cell of his body which was weird because Willow was the witch. For some weird reason, this felt very familiar to him, as if his subconscious was plucking the image out of a memory. But he couldn't remember the memory.

He knew he wasn't alone. Could feel the eyes on him. So he turned around and wasn't in the least surprised to see Angel there, Angel the Gorgeous of the brooding brow and soulful eyes and constant quest for redemption. "Hey, Angel. What's shakin'?" Xander asked casually. "You're really frickin' pale, dude," he noted as the sun hit Angel's skin. It was a beautiful pale though, of course, making him look like he was carved out of diamond.

"Occupational hazard," Angel said, and Xander was surprised at the bolt of pain that shot through him at the sound of Angel's sad yet hopeful voice. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed that in the couple of months that he'd been with Angelus. Angel gave him a smile and Xander felt like he was being ripped in two.

It had been such a long time ago that he'd realized he was in love with Angel; so much had changed since then. He'd been such a petty teenager, Xander thought, slightly depressed. All he'd known at the time was that he was crushing hard for Buffy, who, in the way of teenage angst everywhere, only saw him as a brother. So Angel had stepped in as the gorgeous boyfriend who was designed to make Xander feel small.

So Xander had tried hard to ignore how every time he saw Angel a strange sort of jerk went though his whole body, sending tingles everywhere -- the good tingles that you get when you put your arms out and spin spin spin until the blood is pumping everywhere and all you can do is laugh crazy. He'd tried to ignore how every time Angel accidentally touched him a burst of nerves at the base of his spine started dancing the conga. He'd gotten good at ignoring it. But Angel kept saving him. And they'd talk sometimes.

And one night in Xander's room the boy had been listening to his parents fight and thinking about how Angel had walked him home the other night and actually bothered to give him an apologetic look when the vampire had heard the drunken shouts of Tony Harris. And suddenly it crashed into Xander like a ton of bricks. He was in love with Angel! Absolutely hearts and flowers cross your heart in love!

So he'd gone through about three weeks of _my god I'm gay and I'm a sissy_ and all that crap that Tony had shoved down his throat before he'd finally gotten the nerve to talk to Larry about it. He'd figured that after the locker room thing Larry owed him. And Larry had proven surprisingly easy to talk to about stuff like that, and Xander had started to be okay with it.

And then.

And then Buffy had had her disastrous tryst with Angel, who had hopefully never ever known of the way that Xander would steal looks at him (while telling himself sternly that he couldn't mack on Buffy's boyfriend) or draw stupid hearts with A+X in the middle. Angel, who had hopefully never known that Xander always despaired around him because Angel was just so fucking _perfect_ and Xander was just Xander so even if Buffy didn't exist and Angel was interested in guys there was no way in hell he'd ever notice Xander anyway.

Didn't stop him from feeling jealous when the truth had come out about how Angel had lost his soul. He'd hated himself for that feeling of course; how sociopathic can you get when you're jealous of your friend for something like that? So he'd been all supporto guy like always through the whole thing.

And then there was Angelus.

And poor Xander had been so damn caught up in falling in love with Angelus and everything that happened since then that he hadn't stopped to think about Angel much. He'd just gone with it. So now it was with a sort of surprise that he looked at Angel and felt all that old pain back and then some. He'd always love Angel, Xander realized then. He just loved Angelus as well. He couldn't figure out which one was more sick.

"You're quiet today, Xander," Angel pointed out, and Xander drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"I'm thinking," Xander sighed. Angel chuckled, that lovely chuckle that was just so damn rusty because the vampire was so used to punishing himself for feeling even slightly happy. "What?" Xander said with a goofy grin at the sound of Angel laughter.

"You're just usually irritated when accused of thinking, is all," Angel said easily. Xander wondered at the comfort level of the vampire's tone, but then, this was a dream, so whatever.

"I do think, sometimes. I had this old teacher who used to call it woolgathering, which I thought was weird because what does sheep have to do with thinking? Couldn't you just say daydreaming? And then she got all huffy and she said that it was just an expression and I said that it didn't make sense and she got all rawr and started acting like I was stupid and I was like--" Xander blushed. Angel always made him babble, babble worse than Willow when she was on a caffeine binge.

"You don't have to stop," Angel said softly. He had that kicked puppy look on his face that he always got when he was concerned that he wasn't acting human enough and had somehow inadvertently hurt someone's feelings.

"Why do you have to be so damn _good_?" Xander demanded. Angel looked a little taken aback at this. "It would make this whole getting over you thing a lot easier if you weren't so friggin' perfect. I bet I wouldn't even have a crush on you if you weren't all smart _and_ good looking. If you were just one or the other. But you have to be both. It's really not fair at all."

"I'm sorry," Angel said, but he was smiling now and Xander smiled back. It was infectious. This place was infectious, this lovely dream world, and he wasn't sure that he ever wanted to leave.

"I feel sick about you, you know," Xander went on conversationally. "It's weird because I really miss you but Angelus…" He trailed off awkwardly. "Sometimes I think that it would be so good to have you back but then I think it'd be awful because now that I've tasted Angelus, so to speak, it would hurt even more when you went back to Buffy."

"I didn't mean for anyone to care about me," Angel said softly. He looked truly sorry that he was inadvertently causing Xander pain. "I just wanted to fight for my redemption. Then there was Buffy, and then I felt guilty because of how young she was and how I was distracting her. And I felt guilty because I loved her but I couldn't help but notice you because I could smell your attraction from across a room ((Xander blushed here, mortified, but Angel didn't notice)), and it just hurt because I always seem to cause pain. I don't even know if I believe in my redemption anymore," he confessed, shamefaced.

"That's stupid," Xander said firmly. "You're the best person I know, under Buffy. You fight so hard to correct something that wasn't really your fault. You got turned into a demon, and now you've made the choice to fight to be better than that and to make up for that. So don't rag on yourself so much. You do good. And it might hurt me now but I'd rather have known you and loved you anyway than not have known you at all."

He hadn't even noticed that he'd gotten himself so worked up until Angel put his hand on Xander's arm to get him to calm down. When Xander took a breath Angel was suddenly so close, so close, Xander was drowning in those damn dreamy eyes, and why was it that he never felt girly about the gay thing until Angel?

"I never realized that you cared that much, Xander," Angel said softly.

And this was a dream. So Xander decided that it would be okay to kiss Angel, just this once, so he leaned forward and he wasn't surprised that Angel responded to the kiss because it was just like Angel to give him this, just this once. Angel's lips were soft and firm all at once. He didn't kiss with the heated possession of Angelus, he kissed like he had all day, like they had eternity to feel each other's lips. It was the sweetest, most innocent kiss of Xander's life, and it made him tremble from his head to his toes as that sweet rush of tingly feeling that he always felt around Angel shot through him.

And somehow he wasn't hard. Because this wasn't about sex. This was something pure, unmarred by tawdry lust. This was what people wrote ballads about and this is why the Trojan War was fought, this was what Xander found in Angel's kiss. He was sobbing when Angel pulled back, and Angel gently drew him to him and carefully, as if Xander was made of porcelain, kissed each tear away.

So Xander gave in and kissed him again.

This kiss was hard and possessing, and it thrilled every nerve in his body. He poured himself into this kiss and wasn't surprised when he nicked fang and a plundering tongue stole boldly into his mouth and moaned at the flavor. When Xander pulled back Angelus was licking his lips, his strange, beautiful demonic face smiling at Xander with that unbridled demonic passion that Angelus gave to his boy.

"I love you," Xander blurted.

"I know," Angelus said with a smirk.

Where Angel was soft, Angelus was hard. Somehow there was a difference between the two of them, and Xander had a sense that for his own sanity he had to find that difference or he'd be lost…

_In fear I hurried this way and that…I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other_.

_The line stepped into his mind out of nowhere. As Angelus claimed him with fang, tongue and cock again and again, Xander wept to himself. He loved them both, his demon and his angel, his lover and his friend. But this madcap affair with Angelus had set so many bad things in motion. And he, Xander, had stood aside and watched everything burn because that was his choice. The dream Angelus suddenly disappeared and instead there was a mirror and on one side was Angel and on the other Angelus. And next to each one was a Xander. The one next to Angelus was somehow gorgeous, powerful, a demon's mate who was respected if not feared by all. By Angel's side was a sun-kissed human boy who was laughing with a carefree joy as he bandaged a child, Angel putting his hand on Light Xander's shoulder with a smile of his own._

_Both were his future._

_One was his choice._

_He was going to have to make a choice, soon. He was going to have to pay for actions, own up to his mistakes, and accept the consequences of his choices. Either way. But there were two ways to go. One was dark. One was light._

_Which would he choose?_

_Angel or Angelus?_

_Chocolate or blood?_

**888**

"So what are we going to do now?" Cordelia asked as everyone limped toward Giles. The Watcher sighed and ran his hand through his hair, and Cordelia prayed that no one but her noticed the way Angelus was staring at Giles' bleeding nose. She casually stepped on his foot and the vampire flicked a glance her way. Cordelia gave him a cheerful grin and mimed staking him. Angelus sneered her way but stepped aside.

"Now…now it's his turn," Buffy said quietly, cradling her arm. She glared daggers at Angelus. "You tell us what the hell you did to him and we reverse it. Demon's gone, Xander's back, and then we fight to the death," she elaborated without a trace of emotion in her voice. Willow jerked away, shocked.

"Buffy--"

"The Slayer's right, witch. That's how this thing has to end," Angelus said flatly. He probably would have sounded a lot more menacing if he wasn't so haggard and pale and stooped in pain. Buffy sneered at him, but the sneer turned into a grimace of pain as her broken arm twanged. Angelus took a step toward her, growling, but suddenly he was being shoved back.

"Stop it!" Willow snapped angrily, standing on her own, her eyes dark with fury. "This is not about you two! This is about Xander! So you're gonna help us or I'm gonna light you on fire!" She emphasized her threat with a vicious poke to one of Angelus' wounds. The vampire jerked back, snarling angrily, but Drusilla put a quelling hand on his arm. He assessed the situation and realized that she was right. He needed blood, and soon, or a fly would be able to kick his ass. Buffy might be almost out of the fight but the Watcher and the witch looked quite ready to tear his head off, and the cheerleader looked like she'd be cheering them on while the werewolf helped them.

Furious as he was, the rematch would have to wait. He took a deep, unneeded breath, and glanced at Xander. The thing possessing him had marred his sweet boy's precious features, had stolen away that innocence that Angelus somehow craved like a drug. He remembered the promise he had made to the boy when he'd first taken him: that he, Angelus, would be the most important thing in the boy's life, the center. Somehow, Xander had become that for him. He was like a lost planet, held in orbit by Xander's sun. Somehow, when he was with Xander, Angelus had just a taste of that glorious redemption that his soul had always searched for.

He knew at that moment that he'd do whatever it took to save the boy, whatever it took to bring Xander back so that he could see those big puppy eyes light up as the boy smiled wide enough to hurt. Whatever it took to bring him back. He felt his true face fade to be replaced by the mask of humanity, and the slight dulling of his senses that it brought. He still had higher senses compared to any human but the smell of blood in the room was slightly less tempting now. He needed his wits about him for this conversation.

"When I first took Xander it was because--"

Later, reflecting, everyone would be surprised at the power that Willow seemed to have buried inside of her in spades. It had taken so much out of her to lend her power to Giles to complete the Sleeping Spell, had taken so much out of her to stay up as late as she had trying to heal Xander's wounds. But it was still she who had sensed the burst of power speeding for Giles' apartment, still she who screamed the warning.

Reaching deep inside herself for what she didn't know she possessed, Willow threw her arms out like a shield and screamed "_Protesai!_" She had heard stories of mothers whose loved ones were in danger and had performed amazing feats of strength. Well, she had been through hell and back these last months, and had been put through what no teenager should have to go through these last hours. She was beyond exhausted. She was also beyond furious. Her vision blurred red as she hit her last reserves and felt the shield of magic rip out of her and slam into the oncoming spell like a Mack truck slamming into a rhino.

All the others heard was Willow screaming what sounded like _NO_ and a spell when they heard what sounded like a crack of the loudest thunder in existence. There was a _ripple_ of pure power as the two spells met each other head on, a ripple that resounded back, cracking the very walls of the apartment and shaking the ground hard enough to make everyone nearly tumble. Buffy shrieked in pain as her broken arm was jostled hard enough to break it even worse, but Willow didn't even hear her; all she could focus on was keeping her shield up, no matter the cost.

Giles, divining the situation, yelled "To Willow!" He threw himself forward and grabbed her hand. Understanding, Oz and Cordelia rushed to Willow's side and grabbed hold of her. Willow greedily drew on the energies of the three like a psychic vampire and felt her shield solidify until even Cordelia could see the swirling blue bubble of magical energy that extended about three feet out of the apartment. Buffy stumbled over and laid her hand on Willow's shoulder, and the shield glowed even brighter.

It was the strangest sensation, having your energy leeched from you, almost like your whole body was falling asleep and the painful tingles were buzzing through each and every part of you. At the same time it was almost painful, like a buildup of static electricity between your eyes that kept getting worse and worse instead of better.

In Willow's mind's eye, she could feel the imprint of the intruders who had cast the Stunning Spell, standing in the courtyard. There were four magic-users who she did not know, and one that she did - _Jenny_. Willow ignored this; she could feel no intent to harm from her teacher. She focused on the four she did not know. Two were of exceptional strength, but she could feel that they were more on the defensive if anything else: protectors. The other twos' auras shone like search beacons of pure power. She'd never felt anything like it. One's aura was darker than the other, had a taste of power and greed. The other was like the Moon: shining, bright, white, and also icy and merciless.

Her vision was suddenly blocked, as if someone had cottoned on to the fact that she was sensing them. Too late, she noticed a fifth, clearly a Seer or a psychic, and before Willow could get a good read of her aura, the unknown fifth had blocked her out. _Okay_, Willow thought. _Two can __play at that game._ She focused some of her power on duplicating the trick, and when the tendril of psychic energy that the opposing party sent in to probe, all they could sense was Willow. To the outsiders, it would feel as if there was only Willow inside, a witch powerful enough to hold them off on her own. She hoped that her ruse would trick them into leaving, because even drawing on the others' energies, she didn't know how long her shield would hold against another spell like the first.

"_In the name of the Goddess, we wish peaceful entry_," a voice rang out, bodiless, through the room. It was a powerful psychic voice, the voice of a Frenchwoman, and Willow could feel a part of her who liked the voice and a part of her who warned the other part to not trust her. Willow didn't say anything, but Giles tugged on her sleeve.

"In the name of the God, do you swear you will not attack without due warning?" Giles whispered in her ear, and Willow reluctantly relayed the message. There was a long pause outside, and Willow had a sense that the group was arguing in and of itself. She waited, trying not to notice the stars that were starting to pop in her vision and the shaking in her limbs, and the way the others looked ready to fall asleep.

"_We do so swear_," a male's voice responded. This voice was unpleasant, harsh and grating, and Willow knew at once that this belonged to the man of the darker aura. She didn't trust him at all, but she knew that these words were ceremonial in magic. They'd sworn themselves by Goddess and God, so any offensive magic would neutralize itself inside the confines of the apartment. They couldn't send an attack inside, either, so Willow finally lowered her shield. She staggered back against Giles, and he caught her.

"I'm so proud of you, Willow," he whispered, squeezing her comfortingly. She gave him an exhausted smile before Oz gently took her in his arms. She went gladly; she was completely spent. Even if the others broke their word and managed to get around the magical injunction, there would be nothing she could do about it. She'd done her bit. She'd have to see if the others could handle it without her.

Angelus took a position protectively over the still sleeping Xander/Demon, his fangs bared. Drusilla seated herself on the stairs, humming softly to herself, her wide, mad eyes flicking this way and that all over the apartment. Willow didn't want to know what the vampiress was seeing then.

They all looked up cautiously as the other group slowly entered the apartment.

**888**

Jenny winced when she entered the apartment. She felt Rupert's eyes on her, among others, like a scream of betrayal. She didn't let herself flinch. She deserved it. Her eyes widened as she took in the wreckage of the apartment. It looked like a tornado had struck it; there was not a thing left uncracked or unbroken. She froze in shock when she saw that Rupert had extended an invitation to both Angelus and Drusilla. And she let out a small scream when she saw the thing that had taken over Xander.

She could feel Marie-Claire's disapproving glance, but she ignored it. The thing was sleeping now, but she could still feel the pure darkness of power running off of it in psychotic waves. But somehow, in sleep, she could feel something light underneath it all, something that was pure Xander and nothing else. She shuddered as she was wracked with a wave of guilt and doubt and again she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing.

"Who are you?" Buffy said flatly, ignoring Jenny's presence. The Slayer sized up the envoy and was clearly weighing her chances of taking them out, even though she was very obviously grievously injured.

"I am the Lady of the Lake, Mistress of the Isle of Avalon," Marie-Claire announced simply, holding the Slayer's gaze. "This is my counterpart, the Lord of the Druids and Master of the Isle, as well as our two guards and my Seer, Larana." She indicated the rest of her party. "I believe that you are already acquainted with Janna," she said casually. _Now_ Jenny felt eyes on her. She slowly sank down a wall and seated herself on the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Avalon? But it's said you never leave the Isle," Giles protested, cautiously stepping closer to Buffy. He clearly didn't trust them to tell the truth.

"Normally, we don't, Watcher," she responded. "But this is an emergency, one that we have been preparing ourselves for for the last few thousand years." Jenny watched the Master and Mistress of the Guard slowly flank the Lord and Lady, forming a point that would allow them to summon a cone of power if it was necessary. Jenny closed her eyes. She didn't want to watch anymore. She didn't want to know that in the coming moments she would have to make a choice. She didn't want to know that she'd already made her choice and it was impossible to change the outcome.

_Goddess, help me_…

**888**

"So why are you here, then?" Buffy asked tiredly. She was in so much pain that breathing was agony, she was physically exhausted, she was mentally and emotionally stretched beyond her limits. She wasn't sure how much she could take before going homicidal. So judging by the way Willow had shielded them before these people had come in, it made Buffy think that she might have to attack them. How she'd manage to win, she wasn't yet sure, but she'd noticed the way the two burly goons had flanked the leaders, and she was already strategizing taking them out first.

"I think that's rather a good question," Giles said. He, like most who have studied the occult, had heard whispers of the Avalon Coven, and most of it was unbelievable. However, the power rolling off of these two was enough to make him rethink his position. Still, if they were here, now, he had a thought of why they were here. And it would be over his dead body that they took another step. His face hardened into stone.

"I think you know quite well why we're here, Watcher," the leader man said coldly. "From the looks of your home, it seems as if you've spent quite a bit of energy trying to do the exact same thing."

"If you think for one second that you're touching a hair on this boy's head, I'll kill you myself," Giles said quietly, his voice radiating an enormous amount of menace in the levelness of its tone. He stared straight into the other man's eyes, daring him to take another step.

"I am not sure that you understand--" the Lady began, frowning, but Buffy cut her off.

"We understand perfectly. If you're here to help us, then that's fine. If you're here to hurt Xander, I'll tear your heads off. It's really not that difficult of a concept to master, Frenchie," Buffy snapped, her voice dripping acid as she moved to stand beside Giles.

"How dare you speak to the Lady so!" the female guard said, livid with rage, taking an undisciplined step forward. Buffy noted this and calculated her chances of taunting the bitch into a fight.

"I'll speak to her however I want if she thinks she's here to hurt one of my friends," Buffy stated flatly.

"You're a Slayer," the other girl answered in disgust. "And you ally yourself to protect this _creature_? If you truly loved your friend you would let us do what needs to be done!"

"Say something else and you won't say another word," Buffy warned. The girl sneered and took another step and Buffy exploded into action. She tucked her wounded arm in and spun like a top, her unhurt fist smashing into the girl's face like a wrecking ball. She yelped and stumbled back, instinctively hurling out a defensive spell. The air wavered from her hand gesture, but nothing happened. Everyone from the Avalon group froze.

"Clever," the lead man said quietly.

"You'd be surprised," Willow said simply, and stood on Giles' other side. Where she went, Oz followed. Cordelia joined the line with a smirk. Drusilla was strangely quiet, still. She surveyed the room with unblinking black eyes. Angelus stayed where he was, protectively over Xander, snarling.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" Giles asked coldly.

"Yes," the Lady said softly. She surveyed them with wise eyes, and in them there was a deep sadness as she contemplated her next move. "You don't understand why we're here, clearly. The one who began this is here, so you perhaps have worked out that there is a story that needs must be told, in order for understanding to be gained." She gestured to Angelus as she spoke.

"So you know what's happened to Xander?" Willow asked.

"Yes, child. It is an evil thing, an ancient darkness that we have feared above all else and that we have prayed would never come to pass. But it was fated that it would happen. Just as it was fated that we would fight it. But you have my word on this, my word as Lady of Avalon: we will not move to fight you until you have heard the story, weighed our words, and can make an informed decision on which side you stand."

Buffy jerked them back to where Angelus stood. "Willow, can they hear us?"

"Not in here," Willow answered. "The agreement we made with them has negated their magic in here. Even if they decide to fight us about this, they'd need to somehow get Xander out of this apartment to try it."

"So, is this a trick?" Buffy asked her friends. They were all in this together now, and she'd not make a decision without their input.

"Of course it is, you _heard_ them, Slayer," Angelus snapped impatiently. "They can't use their magic in here; we should throw them out now while we have a chance!"

"Oh, what are you gonna do, limp on them?" Cordelia asked acidly. "There isn't a person in this room who could stand up to them right now without getting knocked the hell out, except maybe Willow. But she can't really take a punch," she continued irritably. "And stop growling at me, cause it's getting really annoying!"

"They want to hurt Xander; I agree with Angelus on this one," Willow said flatly.

"Giles?" Buffy asked.

"Well…the Moon Coven is not evil. In fact it is rather a powerful force of good. But they might not be keen on helping what we want -- to them, it might be better to let Xander die than let the chance of whatever's inside of him continue to live; they're obviously afraid of it, and it takes a _lot_ of power to frighten the Isle of Avalon," the Watcher said. "I'm not sure how much help I can give on this decision."

"I think we should hear them out," Cordelia said. The others stared daggers at her, and she sighed exasperatedly as she explained herself. "We're only gonna get one side of the story from growl guy here, right?" She indicated Angelus with a jerk of her chin. "So we should get the whole story, figure out what we need to do, and then tell them to piss off and deal with it on our own."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Oz chimed in.

"So, who votes for hearing them out and choosing from there?" Giles asked. Cordelia, Oz, Giles himself, and Buffy (reluctantly) raised their hands.

"You're making a mistake," Angelus growled desperately. Willow said nothing, but her eyes hardened. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, do what I have to do. Don't let them near him!"

"They won't hurt Xander; they physically can't," Buffy argued. "And I don't even know them and I trust them more than I trust you to figure out what the hell is going on around here."

"It's decided then," Giles murmured. Buffy nodded flatly, and turned to face the Wiccans.

"We'll hear your story," the Slayer said, choosing her words carefully. "_Then_ we'll decide what we're going to do."

"Agreed," the man and woman said, after a moment of silent communication. The man deferred to the woman on this; she stepped forward, the spokeswoman of the group.

"This tale begins long ago, and yet at the same time starts seventeen years ago, here, on the Hellmouth," she began. "And at its beginning and end are the boy you see before you…"

**A/N:** AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! This chapter ate my _soul_! There was so much to cram in, so many emotions and issues and fights to work through! My own imagination has beaten the shit out of me!

Okay, now that _that's_ out of the way…I am actually for once apologizing for leaving you guys with such a cliffhanger. I meant for this to be all one chapter, but it's already twenty pages long and I still have to tell Xander's story and then the end of this part and it was just too much for one installment.

As before, I am truly sorry that it's taken me a little while to update again, but as I've said, there has been a lot of crazy shit going on in my life lately. Thank Goddess this story is so emotionally fucked up that I can pour out on it.

In the manner of feedback -- what about Xander's dream, hmm? It took awhile to write that one, for obvious reasons. But you can't examine a Xander/Angel(us) without a look at both sides of the coin. And remember, Xander _did_ fall head over heels for Angel before Angelus looked his way and started the ball rolling. So there's a _Twilight_-esque choice ahead for our beloved Xan Man: should he choose light or dark? Angel or Angelus?

And then there's Jenny -- a lot going on with her. If you don't like her in this story, sorry. I do. I think she's my most agonizingly emo character ever, and it's fun to vent my anger by kicking her around a little (I'm sick, I need help).

But anyway, this is the end of my little author's rant. I hope you guys enjoyed, and the next chapter shouldn't be as long and thus shouldn't take as long to write. Note I said shouldn't. The universe never exactly works as well as it should, so what do I know?

As always, I dedicate this to my readers. I love you all, and I sincerely hope that you take the time to review -- it's a little out of your day, but makes so much of mine!

Eternally

PyroPadawan.


	21. XIX, Part I: The Blood of Atlantis

**A/N: **_**READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE READING AND DON'T IGNORE IT BECAUSE IF YOU DO YOU'LL REGRET IT!**_

Alright, now that I'm done screaming…Hi, how are you? It's been a while, I know, but I don't feel guilty about that at all, because I've been working on this chapter for the entire time that I've been absent from posting. It has taken me these months to plot this out, to write it. Yes, I knew essentially what I was going to have to write for this, but essentially knowing and writing are two entirely different things, so there you go.

Here's the drill _**(and FYI, this is the where the really important parts kick in)**_: This chapter is Xander's story, but not just Xander's story – it's the story of his entire family, starting all the way back in Atlantis and going right up to where we last left off. In other words, I've been writing the past few, uh, _**millennia**_ in this chapter. So you know what? It's taken quite a while.

The only thing I can think to compare this experience to is what Anne Rice must have felt like writing _The Witching Hour_ when it gets to the part where she documents the entire lives of the Mayfair family (and no, for those of you who have read that _amazing _book, this chapter isn't _that_ long!). Good Goddess, you have no idea how much this has taken me up and taken out of me – not to mention that I'm balancing writing this with school, home projects, family drama (see prior chapters for explanations) and all kinds of shit. Ugh!

**How This Chapter Is Set Up**: This chapter is broken into separate parts, just like Chapter XV: _The Kiss That Woke Sleeping Beauty_. I'm still proud of that chapter. And its title. Yeah. Anyway, this chapter has been broken up like that because there's a million _**HUGELY IMPORTANT DETAILS**_ buried in each of those parts. It's good to take a break now and again when reading this chapter, because it's a lot to absorb. I should know; it's taken months to write it!

**BTW: I AM FINISHED – MOSTLY – WITH THIS CHAPTER…HOWEVER, THE FULL TEXT IS ABOUT FIFTY PAGES LONG…OR LONGER. I'M NOT QUITE DONE EDITING THE SECOND PART. IN THE SPIRIT OF THIS, I'VE BROKEN THIS UP INTO TWO PIECES, WITH THE SECOND ONE DUE OUT BY THE END OF NEXT WEEK AT THE LATEST.**

**The Way the Chapter Is Written**: This chapter is told from Marie-Claire's perspective – I can only make another Anne Rice comparison here: remember in _The_ _Queen of the Damned_ when Maharet is telling The Story of the Twins, and the whole chapter is told as her telling the story to a group? That's how this chapter is written – so don't worry; it's supposed to read just like it is.

**Suggested Rereading Before Reading**: What a mouthful! Anyway, here's the sitch: this chapter draws on other chapters so that pretty much all questions you should have on Xander and all of this get explained. Chapters that _I_ would suggest rereading, unless you'd like to start from the beginning again, are as follows: _Prologue: Once upon a Time_; _Chapter V: The Balcony Scene, Part III_; _Chapter XVIII: Blood, Chocolate & Ashes_. _**Trust me on this – it'll make so much more sense if you're boned up on what I've set up in other chapters!**_

**Disclaimer**: This is where _**ELEMENTS**_ of the Phoenix Saga storyline begin to appear…but just that – elements. That's all that will _**EVER**_ appear in this fiction! It's set in the Buffy universe, and will stick with purely Buffy characters. Just a heads up. Everything else – Atlantis, Avalon, everything, I've written myself. Some elements of Avalon were inspired by Marion Zimmer Bradley's _fantabulous_ epic _The Mists of Avalon_, but really it's my own verse. All original characters are mine. _**And just for those fans of "Charmed" out there – there is mention of a Nexus of energy in this chapter, but Nexus (I'm not sure what the plural is here) from the Charmed universe were inspired by stories of the real thing from mythology, so just so you know, Charmed is not being borrowed from here – the mythos that I'm using I've interpreted from legend**_.

**Soundtrack**: I've made an entire soundtrack for this chapter alone because of how life-devouring this is. As I've said before, soundtracks help me write in ways that you can't imagine, and I think that (I hope that) you guys like it too. For those of you who are following the soundtracks, this does not count as the second volume of the _the Passion of Angels and Demons_ soundtrack – it's purely for this episode.

All Around Me – String Quartet Tribute (From "Tribute to Flyleaf")

Dublin, 1838 (From "Amends") – Christophe Beck (From the Season III Promo Score)

The Birth of Angelus – Robert J. Kral (Featuring Elin Carlson) (From the "Angel: Live Fast, Die Never" Soundtrack)

Homecoming – Christophe Beck (From the "Elektra" Score)

Slayer's Elegy (From "The Wish") – Christophe Beck (From "Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score")

Sally's Song – Amy Lee (From the "Nightmare Revisited" Soundtrack)

Nymphetamine Overdose – Cradle of Filth

End of the World (acoustic) – Cold (From the "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" Soundtrack)

Suicide Note – Johnette Napolitano (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)

Hover Quiet Mix – Trust Company (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)

Out of This World – Bush

Change (In the House of Flies) – Deftones

Anything for You – Evanescence (From "Demos" and also "Not for Your Ears")

Victim – Trapt

See Through – Megan McCauley

Heartbreaker – Pink (Bonus Track from the Platinum Edition of "I'm Not Dead")

All Around Me – Flyleaf

CrushCrushCrush – Paramore

I'm Not Dead – Pink

Touched – VAST

Your Star – Evanescence

All of This Past – Sarah Bettens (From the "Underworld" Soundtrack)

**88888!** Christophe Beck has finally got a score CD out there! For those of you who haven't yet heard the incredible news, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score_ was finally released September of this year! I bought it the day it came out and I have not regretted it in any way shape or form – it's positively stunning!

_**REALLY IMPORTANT NOTE: REVIEWS**_

Okay, so I'm really annoyed and hurt and angry and all that good junk. I realize that sometimes I leave you hanging with the lengths between chapters, but I used to be able to look forward to like ten reviews with each update and now I'm lucky if I get like five. And I've been posting these huge, like 30 page long chapters, and I get really angry because I _know_ that you guys are reading it because of the tracker tech stuff on the page and I've got people in here from fucking _Croatia_ who read this every update and yet I have to wait two whole months to start actually seeing reviews?! STOP PUTTING ME ON AN UPDATE OR FAVORITE LIST AND JUST WRITE A STUPID REVIEW! Ugh!

Sorry! I'm really not trying to sound like the Wicked Witch of the East here, guys, it's just incredibly frustrating and disheartening to see that no matter how long you make your chapters or how much effort you pour into making them really plot-thicky people just don't have the inclination to so much as say a one line: "Hi, I really like this story, please continue"? Sigh.

It's not asking a lot – just hit the same button that you hit to add someone to an alert or favorite list only this time include a line or two about the update. It clearly means more than you know, because if you did know you'd realize that without feedback an author has absolutely _no_ motivation to complete/continue a story. So there it is.

And as I've gotten so few reviews on this, I'm about to do something I don't think I've ever done before: respond personally to reviewers.

**DAVINCI**: You've stuck with me through most of this, I think, and even pimped me out on LiveJournal, which was very cool. Your feedback is much appreciated – and as for Buffy…_yeah_, she has a lot more issues than what she's letting on right now – but that's the beauty of her being the Slayer: anyone in this verse can throw whatever they want to at her and she has to somehow not crumble! Anyway, Buffy gets to deal with some of this in the future, so if you're looking for a bit of a meltdown, you're gonna get it.

**EMERALDEN RAPLEY**: You also have stuck with me for a while, so huge hugs to you! Don't worry, Drusilla isn't going to die. She doesn't have a huge role in this story, but she's amazingly psychotic so she's lots of fun to throw into a situation. I don't mind giving this spoiler away: Drusilla will not die! She'll just be peripherally crazy.

**HALLOWEEN DOLL**: Yet again, another faithful reviewer (I love your username, BTW). I'm sorry that I wasn't so much with the Xangelus dialogue last chapter, but it had to be what it had to be (and at that time I wasn't aware how damn _long_ these chapters were going to turn out). Anyhoo, thanks for the props and don't worry – much much more Xander/Angel and Xander/Angelus angst/slashy goodness ahead!

**DESTINY ENTWINEMENTS**: Another interesting name! I love that you love my story but don't lose sleep over it or I'll feel bad!

**NANAMI**: Thanks very much for pointing that out to me! No, Spike is no longer in his wheelchair – sorry for the goof. I'm very grateful that you aren't worried about pointing out my mistakes. I'm going to try and rectify that soon – if there are any other inconsistencies that you notice along the way, please point them out to me – I love to fix mistakes.

**SPARK**: Thanks! I'm glad that you're enjoying it – and in what way did Xander come off as sort of Sue to you? Cuz you're totally right – I hate that in stories and I'd like to do the best I can to _not_ do it.

**KAGE MIRAI**: I did end up having a great trip – thanks for the well wishes. Hope you're enjoying the story.

**FORTHEJOY**: Thanks for the line. I think what a lot of Xander/Angelus stories leave out is that they say that Xander started off crushing on Angel and then when the Angelus thing happens, Angel sort of slips off to the wayside. I wanted to make sure that people remembered that Angel is who Xander first fell for, and that there are consequences to being with the part of Angel (Angel being both demon and soul) who would want Xander in return. Xander's got a lot to think about – and I'm glad you enjoyed the dream, because it turns out to be important later on.

**BECK**: Thanks so much for the high praise! I personally still think that _Nexus_ by Raksha the Wolf is still _my_ personal favorite Xander/Angelus story, but it's really cool to think that mine is yours…well, you know what I mean. Here's more.

**LORZA**: Thank you so much for the praise – and here's the next chapter!

**AND TO ALL THOSE WHO TOOK THE TIME AND ENERGY TO REVIEW THAT I HAVE NOT ADDRESSED HERE – THANK YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART AND SOUL. YOU'RE THE REASON I'M WRITING THIS NOW, SO HIT THAT REVIEW BUTTON AND MAKE THE NEXT CHAPTER HAPPEN!**

Okay, with all that out of the way, without any further ado let me welcome you to the hugest thing I've ever written. I hope you like it, but if you don't _please_ don't tell me because this has devoured so much of my life by now I'm feeling incredibly fragile about it. Sigh. But here it is, the one you've all been waiting for. I now present:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XIX, Part I

The Blood of Atlantis

_All of this dust_

_All of this past_

_All of this over_

_And gone_

_And never coming back_

_All of this forgotten_

_Not by me…_

"All of This Past" by Sarah Bettens (Written by Danny Lohner, from _Underworld_)

**I. **_**Atlantis**_

As I am sure that your Watcher has told you, this world was once ruled by demons.

It was a different time then – humans had just appeared, and magic was everywhere. What some have foolishly referred to as the supernatural (which is merely a break in what they consider the norm of the world's laws, an arrogance that many humans have inherited, mores' the pity) was the norm instead of the exception. Such it was that many areas of the earth and Her treasures were sources of power for those who could sense it, use it. Like the child's story _The Wizard of Oz_, each direction had a power, and there were once demon lords who ruled over those directions. We use the elemental powers and their directions to this day, in our Correspondences in magic.

From the South came the power of Fire; to the East was the power of Air. To the West was the dominion of Water, and from the North was the most powerful of all: the power of Earth, which in turn was a combination of all of these things, for all of these things came from the Mother and all must return unto Her in the end. The Earth also holds the power of Balance: it will level out all of the elements. You are all already quite aware of demons descended from the power of Fire – vampires, they are called today. You did not know this, perhaps? Why else would a vampire burst into ash when slain – why else would a shaft of wood from the Earth be the most effective weapon?

The demonic world was ruled surprisingly effectively by these Elementals – though there are many names for them (for instance, the myths of the Greek Titans), and each maintained their domain with an iron fist. There were small areas of No Man's Land, for lack of a better term, between these land areas. These were where the first humans began to propagate, fighting with nomad demons and other magical creatures who did not wish to belong to the Elemental Courts. And for a long time, that was the way the world was – separated into these territories, ruled coldly, cruelly, and efficiently.

Until one day, and no one knows how, or when, a leader of men rose up, gathered his people together, and founded the Empire of Atlantis. His name was Ferro.

Accounts differ on how Ferro was able to do so, but truly no one knows the answer to this question. All they do know was that this man was a very powerful mage of some kind, and had used this skill to gather a tribe to himself early on. In the middle of the four vast courts of the Elementals, in the No Man's Land I mentioned earlier, was a vast island, near modern day Greece – but keep in mind that the world was much differently made up back then. There was a gathering of power – ley lines, natural power, what have you. Not a Hellmouth, no – there was what we call a _Nexus_ there. There is only one other in this world that we have yet found, but that comes into the story later.

In the heart of that Nexus, the mage Ferro travelled, and he was able to gather some of the powers there and charge them into a crystal which he called the M'Kraan crystal – crystals are ideal for containing things, for as they are faceted and of the Earth, they balance all power out, focus them, and their faceted faces allow for infinite storage space. The M'Kraan, or _heart_ in the ancient language, was used by Ferro to focus his power. He called the humans to him, and they gladly bowed to him. Finally joined together by a common focus, the human race proved its worth. Within days the City of Atlantica, the capitol of Atlantis (for they had named their island) had been built, and with the M'Kraan crystal's power and the force of the Nexus, it was perhaps the strongest point in the world.

Ferro taught his people of the duality of nature, of light and dark. He taught them of the God and the Goddess, of the Mother and Father of us all, and created his empire based on peace, on caring for nature and drawing Her natural power to heal and to defend, not to attack.

No one, human or otherwise, could enter the city without being first able to pass through the magical shield evoked by the M'Kraan, and as such the first stirrings of genuine unease passed through the demonic world at the thought of the human race. Before, humans were seen as strange, weak animals, cursed with souls and unknown to demonkind. For millennia, demonic powers had fought over the powers of the Nexus, never being able to control it even if they _had_ won the tract of land through blood. But somehow humanity had been able to do such a thing, and had figured out how to use the power of the Nexus to do something that could be interpreted as a threat to the balance of the demonic world.

This was the first time that humanity was viewed as dangerous to the demons.

Now, Atlantis was the ideal home for the human race at this point in time: their numbers were not great, and the island was excellent, temperature and conditions, for growing crops, and also for defense: to the south was a vast desert, to the north there were great areas of treacherous ice, and to the east and west there was an ocean. With the power of the M'Kraan focused by Ferro's magic, humanity began to flourish. Reading and writing, farming and inventing, humanity reached a high point that archeologists will never learn of. Ferro was a kind and just ruler, and believed firmly in the basic goodness of the human soul. He and his most trusted advisors created a system of law the governed the Atlanteans, as they now called themselves, as surely as the demonic Elementals ruled their people. The difference was that the people loved Ferro, and would gladly lay down their lives for them. With the constant infighting in demonic clans, this made it easy for the Atlantean army to join forces and lay waste to the first of the demonic invaders who tried to seize Atlantis for themselves.

And again, the Elementals say this, and were greatly concerned.

Ferro, who was wise, did not want the spirit of war to enter the hearts of his people. So he descended into the Nexus and did not return for half of a year. When he did emerge, he announced that he had found a primal life force, a burning spirit who was kin to the stars themselves, a protector and a god. It had assumed the shape of a flaming bird, and Ferro, inspired by the myths of the humans, had named it _the Phoenix_. The Phoenix became the symbol of Atlantis, and the protector of both the M'Kraan crystal and the human race. None of the attacking demons could stand against this primal force, and as such Atlantis rose to supremacy in the world.

The Elemental overlords could no longer sit still and worry – they decided they must act to preserve themselves and the world they had been born into and controlled for so long.

Again, myth will prevail over fact. The Elementals had a gathering, the Conclave, which had not occurred in demonic memory since time immortal. They laid their differences aside in face of this new threat: humanity, and their growing power. They used their great power to divine a weakness in this Ferro – a flaw which was obvious to the demons. The curse of the human soul is that it allowed for areas of grey, for philosophy and debate and faith and belief. In the demonic mind, there is only black and white, good and evil. Ferro's faith in the human soul would be his undoing.

**II. **_**Pandora**_

As a man of power, Ferro must be lonely, they reasoned. So the Demon of the Earth used its powers over the natural elements to craft a woman, so beautiful that it hurt the eye to look at her. The Demon of Water flowed the deep mysteries of womanhood into her – the power of motherhood, of the cold hatred and the powers of the deep that only woman can truly understand. The Demon of Air breathed life into her mind, giving her wisdom and thought. And finally the Demon of Fire breathed the fires of life into this woman, its passion and its warmth…and its burning rage and pain. They called this woman Pandora, and sent her as a gift of goodwill to Ferro, with the promise that they would not attack him lest he attack them back. Ferro, who fell passionately in love with Pandora from the moment of meeting her, agreed instantly.

Now, the fairy tale version of this story says that Pandora would open a magic box and unleash pain into the world – and in a way this is true. But no box was ever opened, and the only magic performed is that magic which is both boon and curse to all women. Ferro and Pandora gave birth to a child, a boy. His name was Necrom, and he was born with all of his father's power…and all of his mother's demonic rage. From an early age, Necrom's unbridled cruelty and casual misuse of power was apparent. Ferro might have overcome this, but the old human axiom will always ring true – power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. The people of Atlantis had grown corrupt, greedy and power-hungry. They secretly wanted Necrom to be king, to let them indulge in their vices and licentiousness.

When Necrom reached the age of fifteen, he staged a coup. Ferro managed to fight off his son, but the people of Atlantis had turned on him as well. In despair, Ferro turned to Pandora for help…but his false wife finally was ready to shed the human façade which had been forced on her for so long. She ran him through with a blade and told her son to finish him. Ferro vanished before Necrom could do so, however. Fearing that she would not be able to complete the mission she had been created for, Pandora sprinted for the ancient temple, where Ferro had first come to Atlantis and founded Atlantica. But she _was_ too late.

Ferro had called the last of those loyal to him, those who still worshipped all that was good in the universe and renounced the evil of the corrupt Atlanteans, to guard the temple for him. Appearing at the center of the Nexus, which was the temple, he faced his people, particularly Pandora and Necrom, who were trying to incite the crowd to help him. But the crowd was afraid, for Ferro was in a terrible rage. He cursed the people of Atlantis for becoming all which they had abhorred, he deplored their ways as no better than the demons they had fought against for so long. He denied them as his people. And as they trembled before him, he summoned the Phoenix to himself, and in a flash of flame and power, he, the M'Kraan crystal, his faithful people, and the Phoenix Force itself, vanished from the isle of Atlantis.

**III. **_**Avalon**_

Now, as I've said earlier, Ferro knew of the only other Nexus in the world. He feared that his power-crazed son and soulless shell of a wife would want to gain this Nexus and throw off the natural balance of the world. So he brought his people to that place – another island, but much smaller, hidden in the mists. It was already populated with the hidden Faerie people, but they recognized the goodness inherent in Ferro and his people, and they allowed him access to the Nexus. There Ferro constructed another temple, smaller and humbler. He would not allow another decadent empire like Atlantis into being again. He called this isle the Holy Isle of Avalon, and used the Faeries' magic to cloak it in mists, hiding it from the world. And there, he withdrew into his grief, letting his people continue their worship of God and Goddess, of nature and peace.

And so it was for a decade – the Isle of Avalon lay hidden in the mists, a refuge for those few who still believed in goodness, increasingly detached from the world, while to the North, South, East and West, and now the center of the world, wickedness took hold, and the darkness that had so briefly been fought back once more took supremacy.

**IV. **_**The Evil of Atlantis**_

Necrom was an evil tyrant, punishing his people cruelly at the same time that he encouraged that cruelty in others. What had once been an advanced race began to devolve, if you will, to their baser instincts. Humans are capable of so much good in the world that it is only natural that they be capable of horrible cruelty – from Gandhi to Hitler, as the world has seen. A balance is kept. The first coliseum, for lack of a better word, was created in Atlantis – a ring where people were tortured and fought for their lives for the amusement of the crowd. Worship turned to dark gods and wicked goddesses. Any worship of a deity increases that deity's power, until the balance was again destroyed, and the goodness of the world suppressed. Days became shorter, nights longer, and black magic and blood sport ruled the lands of Earth.

It is, however, the nature of evil to always seek more power, and yet more. Necrom became greedy for more – for the ultimate power: that of an Elemental demon. So he conspired with his mother Pandora – who was herself immortal due to the nature of her creation – and they decided that Necrom must have an heir…not only an heir, but a girl-child with which to tempt the amorous Elementals. Necrom, unnaturally beautiful due to his father's magic and his mother's nature, decided that only great beauty could create great beauty, and so his mother became the mother of her son's daughter. Using dark magic, Pandora influenced the egg within her so that her next child would be a girl.

However, any great magic will ripple through the minds of powerful magic users, and as Ferro was still one of the most powerful of them all, he cast a Seeing Spell to witness what nightmarish spell had ripped through the walls of magic. When he saw the horror of what his once-wife and child had done, had planned, he wept and screamed that such evil could exist in this world. He knew then that his period of peace, hidden in Avalon, was done. He could no longer separate himself from the world, from the evil that he had inadvertently created. So he called his magic to him and travelled into the Dream World.

The Dream World is where our dreams live, and it is where many things can occur, for humans travel through those walls, particularly magic-users, when they sleep. He called the spirit of the Phoenix Force into himself and flew through this area until he reached that dark, horrifying place where the dreams of the truly soulless live. He had never travelled here before, never thought that he had a reason to. But here was where Pandora's sleeping body lay, so Ferro searched for her and found her in a hellish dream wherein she used the darkness within her to destroy the world over and over, for such was her destiny. So he flew into her spirit – in the Dream World, she had no defenses against this – and cast the beauteous spirit of the Phoenix into the girl who was growing in Pandora's womb. He called the blessings of the God and the Goddess on the babe, wrapping her in goodness – in essence, performing the first Wiccaning.

The legends of Pandora say that she wept tears of acid when she opened her magic box and saw the horrors within – well, the acid at least is true. When she awoke that morning after the pure goodness of her husband's magic had touched her, she found herself weeping for that which she could never have nor understand. Pandora had never cried before, and as she was a dark, soulless creature, the tears burnt like acid. When Pandora looked in the mirror, she saw that her great beauty had been transfigured – the tears she had shed had burned tracks, three each, under each eye, leaving hideous black burns on her luscious cheeks. She screamed so loud that she broke her mirror, it is said, and from that moment she swore that it would be she and no other who would murder her husband.

When Necrom saw what had happened to his mother, he decided that she must be hidden from the people, lest they turn their loyalty from them. So he crafted a story that the 'blessed babe' was sapping his mother's strength and that she must stay in the palace in order to ensure that the heir was born strong. For nine months it was like this, for the strange nature of the child caused her to stay in her womb for a full year, and then, finally, the girl was born. Her name was Rakia.

When Necrom saw the mark of the Moon burnt onto the girl's arm, he knew not what it meant but that his father had somehow interfered. Atlantis became then the sworn enemy of Avalon, for Necrom was afraid of Ferro, for he knew that ultimately he was too afraid of death, too craven to defeat his father.

**V. **_**Rakia and the Clash of the Titans**_

For twenty years Rakia grew up in her father's court, but it was her which caused Necrom to grow more and more paranoid as the years went on. For no matter where she went, what horrors she was exposed to in the name of sport, Rakia was a goodly child, and became renowned in her kingdom for her healing hands. Eventually Necrom saw his enemies everywhere, in Ferro and his mother, and withdrew from his people. However, he was still hungry for power, for Necrom was not a wise man, and as such he feared death. So he coveted the power of longevity, which his mother and father had and he did not. So when his daughter reached the age of twenty he offered her in marriage to the Elemental demon that could prove himself worthy. Pandora stepped in and decreed that to prove themselves there should be a contest of conquest.

Now, Rakia was amazingly beautiful and desirable, and stirred the passions of Fire and the hunger of Water. She was also good and powerful with good magic – quiet skills, such as healing and empathy, which made her shine like a lodestone to evil magic. So Air entered the contest. At first Earth entered to maintain balance, for Earth was concerned with ensuring that the demons still came out on top. But these demons underestimated the cunning of Pandora, their own creation, for though she was as dark and cruel as her son, she was a good deal more cunning, and knew that if she could wrest some of the Elemental powers for herself, she would be able to take her revenge on her husband, and perhaps eventually wrest the powers of Atlantis from her son. So Earth also entered the fight for Rakia.

The battle was…momentous, to say the least. Remote areas of the Earth still bear the scars of the battles. Fire raged out of control, burning and burning, ravaging the face of the planet until Water flooded the Earth in a torrential flood that killed the demon of Fire and also mortally wounded Water, whom Earth threw its powers toward killing. The demon of Air, the Stoírm, seized its chance and murdered the demon of the Earth. Or at least, attempted to murder. No one knows how, but none of the Elementals were truly _killed_…just, mortally wounded, for some time. They disappeared.

When the last of the Elementals fell, the Earth looked as if one of your atomic bombs had hit it. There was nearly nothing left that was not either destroyed beyond recognition or flooded under waters. The movements of the Earth had left only one great landmass, which your scientists have named Pangaea. To the South there was Atlantis – or, what was left of it. To the East was what was left of the demon hordes, and to the North was the last of the wild humans, demons, and other creatures. Hidden to the North was still Avalon, deep in the mists, surrounded by water, even smaller than before. Pandora had acted before her son knew what had happened, drawing the power of Fire into herself, for she knew that combined with her dark magic, fire would aid her in her goal for vengeance.

As for Necrom, he greedily imagined the boy that would be begat by Rakia and the Stoírm, and how he would control this power. He conceived not that Rakia would be any great threat to him, for the girl was filled with too much goodness to ever wish harm upon her father. In his madness he cared not for the thousands of humans who had died in the clash of the titans that had been the power struggle of the Elementals – what were they to he, the ruler of Atlantis and the most powerful of magicians? Atlantis split down the middle – those who'd finally had enough of the pure evil the once-golden nation had been, and those who still indulged in the craven cruelties of Necrom's court. Those who no longer abided by the rules of Atlantica left in the cover of night, renouncing Necrom. Those who stayed were the wickedest of the lot, and they celebrated the marriage of Rakia and the Stoírm demon by hosting a wild hunt of the Faerie Folk, a hunt which has bred bitterness and a great divide between the two species to this day.

**VI. **_**Paranoia and Its Consequences**_

The Stoírm was the most human-looking of the demons, when it chose to take corporeal form – a pale creature with wings and horns much like the Christian Satan, a fallen angel. When demons mate, they mate for life, and though demonic love is like all things daemonic a dark and twisted thing, they do love. Rakia, through her goodness, came to love the Stoírm in return, and it cherished her above all others. It refused the killing of humans to the remaining demons, keeping a strict court in an effort to please its new wife. Rakia could not be said to be happy, but she was content, for a time…until she became pregnant.

For the only woman whom Necrom had had great contact with was Pandora, who knew to control her body in dark ways. Rakia had renounced black magic, and so even though Necrom ordered her to bear a son, an heir of Atlantis, she knew not how. So she became pregnant, and Pandora's magic foresaw that this child would be a girl – and worse still, a girl touched with the goodness of Ferro's magic and the power of the Stoírm demon. There was no telling what such a child could do, and Necrom grew very fearful of the girl's eventual power. When Rakia's belly swelled in such a way as to show that the child's birth was indeed imminent, Necrom's paranoia and madness finally overcame him, and he chose perhaps the most foolish path that he could possibly have taken. Necrom sent his emissaries to the court of the Stoírm, and kidnapped his daughter back to Atlantica. He declared the marriage void, and sentenced his daughter to be executed for treason at the rising of the next full Moon.

The Stoírm went beyond mad – his rage at even receiving the news was said to have been enough to incinerate those within twenty feet of him. He declared war on Atlantis and vowed that he would not stop until every human had been obliterated from the face of the Earth save for his mate. Ferro, watching this from Avalon, knew that his time had come to act. He appointed his wisest female and male student as the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle, the first of a long line, and he took the M'Kraan crystal and headed for Atlantis. Following his instructions, a young student of his travelled to the humans who had ran from Atlantica and warned them of what was to come, and how they could save themselves and possibly the future of the human world.

As the humans prepared themselves in the South, Ferro travelled from the North, and the Stoírm and its army began marching from the East, Atlantis was not unaware of what had happened. Pandora had prepared herself for this event, particularly Ferro's approach, and spirited herself away from the castle at night to reside in the ancient temple where Ferro had once kept the M'Kraan crystal, right over the Nexus. There she prepared herself for her battle, leaving her son to fend for himself against the Stoírm demon he had so foolishly angered.

**VII. **_**The Final Battle and the Fall of Atlantis**_

As Ferro entered the city, he used some of his power to stop the M'Kraan from shielding Atlantis from the demonic army that was set to invade the city. He knew that there were no innocents left save for his granddaughter and her unborn child, and he had already provided for her. Instead, he bypassed the castle, leaving that battle for the Stoírm and Necrom, and went to the temple, where he planned to restore the M'Kraan crystal and carry out his plan. What he had not counted on was Pandora waiting for him. Their battle began at nearly the same time as the first wave of the demonic army hit the Atlantean army with the force of a battering ram. The troops, who had once been battle-hardened, were now fat with vice and greed, and were unable to understand why their city was not protecting them as she had always done in the past. They were cut down like wheat, which suited the Stoírm fine, as it stormed the castle in a murderous rage.

There, it found Necrom, and it joined him in battle.

At the temple, Pandora tried and tried again to blast Ferro into oblivion with energy balls of the darkest magic, but he merely dodged them, teleporting away from them again and again. He refused to be drawn into a conflict. He begged his wife to deny her birthright, to stop the destroyer within her, but she was in the end a soulless creature, and cared not for his pain. She wanted her revenge on him and she wanted to own this world, so she continued her murderous attack. At last she hit him, but with that blow he was not wounded, merely aware of the true evil of her nature. Ferro hardened his heart to her, and blasted her away from him. She, being immortal, healed from this, and went after him in a telekinetic attack, which he responded to.

The humans in the streets of Atlantis who knew what was good for them were hiding underneath the rubble as the demons laid waste to the city, and as the battle in the temple escalated. The sheer power being unleashed by Pandora and Ferro were causing reality itself to ripple, and people were either sinking into the Earth itself or else simply floating off into the air to fall miles to their deaths. But that energy was matched by what was released near the palace – for for all of his mania and dementia, Necrom still maintained the power that was his birthright, and he knew much of Pandora's tricks. The Stoírm blasted with lightening, hit the palace with hurricanes and ice and rain all at once as they engaged in hand to hand combat, but Necrom merely responded with force bolts of black magic that sliced like a thousand knives wherever they landed.

Whenever their blows met, the ground shook as if the gods themselves stomped on the ground. Amongst the confusion of the Armageddon, however, Rakia had been forgotten. The stress of what was occurring around her was causing the poor woman to go into premature labor…but this had been foreseen by Ferro, who had sent that selfsame student who had warned the other humans of the impending apocalypse had then snuck in secret into the heart of Atlantica, and had now fought her way to the princess' side. Forming a Circle of protective magic around Rakia, the priestess invoked the Goddess to help her deliver the child, a protection against the child's daemonic nature.

In the temple, the battle had become more furied. The power of fire battled hellishly with Ferro's white magic, burning the very air around the two combatants. The temple had long since collapsed around them, blasting any, human or demon, who dared come near them to cinders. Ferro saw with despair that they were far too evenly matched, and knew there was no way that he could kill Pandora in time to do what he must do. Pandora laughed at this and pressed her attack – but Ferro was wise, and he did not fear death. Forgoing attacking, he simply waited until Pandora's reckless offensive left him an opening. When it did, he cast a quick spell that turned her into stone. Frozen for the moments that it took her to break the spell, Ferro rushed to complete his mission.

Meanwhile, the Stoírm's battle with Necrom had grown even more vast itself, a hurricane of daemonic power and black magic battling for supremacy. But the Stoírm was no fool, and saw that Necrom was defeating its powers. Using the telepathic skills that Rakia had taught him, the Stoírm looked into its opponent's mind and saw the greatest fear there. Casting a simple spell, the Stoírm clouded Necrom's mind with an image of his own death – the only death that Necrom feared: an ending, mere blackness for eternity wherein Necrom would simply cease to be and never, ever know life again. Necrom's horror was so great that he lost all concentration, making him easy prey as the Stoírm unleashed the power of lightening to such a degree that Necrom disintegrated, and it is said that if one could ever reach Atlantis that before the ruined palace's steps there is a vast scorched crater wherein Necrom was finally killed by his opponent.

And during all of this, Rakia died giving birth to the girl that had caused all of this. Though the priestess, whose name was Helene, was greatly tempted to kill the babe, she knew that she must do what her teacher had instructed her to do, so she wrapped the girl in swaddling clothes and hastened to make her escape from the ruins of Atlantica, speeding to the vast ship that was waiting for her. Rakia had made one last request before her death: when Ferro's magic had touched her as a child and shielded her in white magic while in her mother's womb, the mark of the Moon had been burned onto Rakia's arm. In honor of the Goddess, Rakia named her child Tíanna – the Atlantean form of Diana, the maiden hunter Goddess of the Moon. Helene agreed, and spirited the child away.

And no further step was taken inside of Atlantica, for Ferro had reached his goal. Plunging the M'Kraan crystal into its holding place, he joined once more with the Nexus whose power he had manipulated to create this cursed land in the first place. He created a bubble of sheer power which no one would ever be able to penetrate, and cast the Stoírm out into the demonic wastelands. Then, calling on the power of water, which he had absorbed during the titanic struggle for Rakia's hand, he called the greatest flood in the history of the Earth, and sent it on a crash course directly for Atlantis. Shaking with the earthquakes unleashed by the power struggles held that day, when the flood hit Atlantis, it was enough to do what it was meant to do – sink Atlantis to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, freezing the people of Atlantica forever where they could no longer use the power Ferro had unwittingly unleashed for evil.

When his task was done, Ferro returned to the real world, for he had been forced to trap himself in Atlantis as well for his spell to work. There, Pandora was waiting for him, and there she killed him in vengeance, finally, and turned to survey her kingdom. She was queen, as she had wanted from the beginning, of the survivors of the first apocalypse ever to touch the face of the Earth, and of the ruins of the once great city of Atlantica and the empire of Atlantis.

**VIII. **_**Tíanna**_

Now, Helene had escaped the destruction of Atlantis on what would become emblazoned in legend as Noah's Ark, though of course that has romanticized the story. The priestess journeyed for weeks with the newborn girl, as fast as was possible. With the power of the Stoírm demon and the girl's heritage running inside of her, Helene was compelled to follow Faro's last instructions to her out of fear of what the infant's unbound powers could do. With the Elemental overlords finally driven to the Wastelands, the balance of power was wildly shifted. Humans and demons no longer had any leaders, any unifying forces. With the exception of Avalon, which was itself not more advanced than most rudimentary dwellings, the world had been hurtled farther back than the Stone Age. If the girl's powers went off unexpectedly they were liable to be attacked by demon and human alike.

The two managed to travel without incident, thank the Goddess, and they landed in Avalon after perhaps a month of land and water travel. Though the isle was much grieved by the fate of Ferro, they were compelled to follow his instructions. Taking Tíanna through the proper rituals, the Lady of the Lake bound her powers, both demonic and otherwise, for it was Farro's wish that neither his magic nor the demonic powers running rampant through the girl should ever be unleashed on the world again. The Old Ways were dying after the fall of both Atlantis and the Elementals, and the way was being made for the human beast to take control, for the world to fall into the patterns that would shape the history that we have been born into today.

Tíanna was kept on the Isle of Avalon, both for her own safety and so that the Lady and Lord could keep watch over her and ensure that the ancient magic would hold strong. Then Tíanna did the one thing that had been most hoped against – she fell in love. With the binding of her powers, her human side was all that anyone saw, so the young Druid who loved her thought her human, as did she. Tíanna became pregnant from their union, and so her line continued. Though the Lord argued very convincingly that they must kill the child, a debate which still holds to today, the Lady saw that the binding magicks had held, and that the child was powerless, and so she decided to let it live. She gave birth to twins – a girl and a boy. The girl was named Adia, and the boy was named Aleo.

**IX. **_**Slayer**_

Now, while all of this was happening, the humans who were not of Avalon had mostly settled in what is now called Africa, the Cradle of Life. There were three powerful shamans, for lack of a better term, who saw that the demons were becoming weaker and weaker. However, there were rumors in the Underworld that the Fire Elemental was becoming stronger. These humans knew that should the Elementals gain another foothold in this world that it could prove catastrophic, and perhaps hurtle the world back under the control of demonkind. These three concocted a scheme that would stop this, that would prove the last hope of mankind against demons and their spawn. The horror of this plan is still alive today, of course, though you do not know it.

The Shadow Men, as they were called, reached deep into the Dream World, to the realm of Nightmares, and found the dreams of the Earth Elemental, who they considered the strongest. Perhaps they were right. In either case, they used their magic to tear apart the essence of the Earth Elemental, a violation of one's self so painful and horrifying to bear that it is forbidden for magic users to even use it on a demon. The ripples of this action burst through to Avalon, and the Lord and Lady quickly rushed into action, though it was far too late.

The Shadow Men found a young woman, whose parents had been slaughtered by demons. She was strong, a hunter, and was fueled by rage against the demons. Her name has been lost to time, but her story is known to many now. The Shadow Men seduced her with their promises of power and revenge, and when she agreed to return with them, her fate was sealed. Into their cave she went, and then she was struck down and chained to the rocks. The Shadow Men then unleashed the ultimate evil, committed the ultimate rape. The essence of the Earth Elemental that they had torn – the raw physical strength, speed, stamina, the psychic powers of premonition and preternaturally heightened senses, this they forced into the girl. The girl's psychic scream of pain was heard throughout the world, but it was already done.

The first Slayer had been born.

Ah, I see your shock. Yes, this is how the first Slayer was created, this is what lives inside of you – the strength of a demon. It was one of the worst crimes in magical history, and yet there are many even today who say that the ends justified the means. That is not what I am here to tell you, merely that the story of the Slayer ties integrally into this story. For you see it was the horror of the crime that spurred the Avalon coven into action. When the girl, the Slayer as she came to be called first went into battle, she was nearly killed, of course, for she had been given strength that she could not control and no skill with which to use it. The Moon Coven, as we were known back then, decided that we must take the girl in.

Kidnapping her from the Shadow Men, the coven took her back to Avalon, where she stayed for a year and a day, the traditional training period of any Wiccan, learning to focus and hone her psychic abilities, training her in the ancient Atlantean ways of battle, for they were most effective defenses against demons. And, during that period, The Lord of the Isle took his most talented pupils and forged in secret a master weapon, the Scythe of the Slayer, the true weapon of the Slayer and the first of magical blades created by Avalon – you'll remember our handiwork in the case of Excalibur? The point of all of this is that while she was there, the first Slayer and Tíanna's son, Aleo, became great friends…and lovers.

Not much is known about their relationship other than that they kept it extremely secret, for fear of both Tíanna and the Lady of the Lake's reaction. It had been made apparent to Aleo from an early age that he was watched closely because he was Tíanna's son, though he didn't know why. He stayed away from most of his peers who Avalon had taken in to train, so both he and the First Slayer were drawn by their isolation, for it is the nature of the Slayer to be alone. In any case, they did fall in love, we may be certain, for after the period of time during which the Slayer was trained on Avalon, a great catastrophe would occur that would lead to the two's destinies being intertwined forever.

**X. **_**The Demonic Apocalypse**_

The Slayer was released from Avalon carrying the Scythe with a promise to keep the secret of how and where it was forged, to return to the Shadow Men – now wiser, with a chance both to survive and to succeed in her mission. It is important that you understand this point in order to understand the raw strength that was unleashed in this Slayer – you yourself carry a far less potent form of it in yourself, Slayer, yet you have witnessed your own strength: you have never faced a true demon, save for the night the Hellmouth almost opened. All demons that are left on this Earth have been bastardized, as they say – they are tainted with the _humanness_ that is the essence of our world, vampires being a good example.

A true demon is, for one thing, larger (unless they wish otherwise), infinitely more powerful, and has no human taint. The last of the pure demons that had yet to be driven from our dimension – _that_ was what the Shadow Men cursed the First Slayer to fight. The Scythe was created to help her in this battle by being filled with an essence of strength, a pure essence that the girl's body had been forced to create to temper the demonic essence now rampant inside of her – balance, as I have said before. Therefore the Scythe became a powerful symbol of pure Light, and word gradually began to travel the world of a fierce warrior whose weapon struck the demons down. The demons themselves refer to this period as the Demonic Apocalypse, the last moments when their kind held sway.

It is in this Apocalypse where our story picks up – the moment that made it a true apocalypse. You see, the power that had enabled Ferro to banish the last of the Elementals from Earth was not as strong then, for as I've said then was a time of great magic and today it is much less so. The Stoírm found this to his advantage, for he realized that though he could not physically be in the Earthly dimension, he could affect it from the Hell he had been banished to.

It is very unwise to challenge or attack a demon's mate, you see, for love is the strongest of all emotions, both in our world, the Underworld, or any Heaven or Hell you ever see. When Rakia had been struck down by a human, the Stoírm became beyond enraged, past the point that anger can be described. In his heart a pure hatred for humankind emerged, an unthinking vendetta from which sprang this vow: he would find a way to unleash himself back upon the world, raise Atlantis from the water, and resurrect his brethren. Using Pandora's powers as a conduit, they would then murder every human on the face of the Earth, and once more make it a haven for demons. Then things could go back to the way they were, with no human ever being allowed to live, and the Stoírm could go back to ruling his court and mourning his beloved Rakia forever.

This was the vision that the Stoírm dreamed of from the moment of his imprisonment…and this is his vision for our world now – but I digress; that part of our story comes later. In any case, this is the danger that the Stoírm posed: should he ever find a foothold back into this world, he would use that foothold to unleash the ultimate Armageddon, from which any power of good in this world would never be able to recover. And the Stoírm found this foothold in Aleo, in his love of the Slayer.

The Stoírm hatched his plot, and in this manner began the Demonic Apocalypse.

The First Slayer had been most successful in her campaign, for three desires now drove her: first, the vengeance of herself, her family, and the wide family of humankind on the demons; second, her desire that if she could destroy the last demon on this Earth that no girl would ever be violated the way that she had been to become the Slayer; and finally that if she could complete her mission, she could return to Aleo. Aleo also desired greatly to be with the Slayer again. This is how the Stoírm began his plan – love. It is the most powerful force in the universe, but that power enables all of us to be capable of great evil at times. The Stoírm had loved Rakia, and used that as a way to guide himself to Aleo's dreams in the Dream World, for Aleo was his kin, and even though his powers had been bound, the Stoírm could use the blood of his own to unleash power.

Into Aleo's dreams he crept, whispering seductively of the Slayer, of Aleo's love for her. He inflamed Aleo to the point where he would spend more hours asleep than he would awake, and it was only Adia who noticed, who worried. Finally, the Stoírm began to fill Aleo's mind with images of the Slayer's death at the hands of the demons she was facing. Aleo was so in love with the Slayer, so reliant on his dreams at this point, that he was sure that he and the Slayer shared a psychic link, and that his dreams were prophetic visions of her death. He resolved to go to her.

Meanwhile, the Stoírm had roused the spirits of his brothers, the other Elementals. Filled with hatred of the humans for what had been done to them, the others agreed quickly to the Stoírm's plans, and they began to invade the dreams of the strongest of the remaining demons, enticing them to gather, to head to the one place the Elementals needed them most: the resting place of Atlantis.

When Aleo left Atlantis, Adia followed after him. Adia had inherited the natural empathic abilities of her grandmother, and so was filled with worry for her brother. Her love, pure and natural as could be, had blinded the Stoírm to her in the Dream World, and so he had no idea of her existence, so had not made any provisions to stop her from following her brother. Once gone from the safety of Avalon's walls, however, Adia could not follow her brother, for the Stoírm could now influence his thoughts in the waking world as well. Aleo had been taught no basic magic, no defense against the demon's invasion of his mind, and so could not fight his compulsion to travel toward Atlantis.

Adia followed at greater and greater distances, and finally could only rely on her innate magic and bond with her twin brother to guide her.

Directly above Atlantis, or where it once was, is a small spit of land that was once a tiny peninsula jutting out from the mainland. This small island, which would eventually come to be called Crete, is all that is left of Atlantis, and it was to this place that the demons congregated. The First Slayer had been sent by the Shadow Men, and Aleo and Adia both travelled there as well. Crete was the best place to carry out the Stoírm's plan, for it gathered the Elemental powers directly above the Nexus – the water that surrounded the island, the Earth that lived within the Slayer now, the Fire of the Sun at the hottest point of the year, and the blood of the Stoírm itself that lived within Aleo and Adia. Gathered together, these powers would be enough for the Stoírm to finish the last of his plan.

When the Slayer first arrived at Crete, it was…open warfare. The only thing that allowed her to survive the first few minutes was that the gathering of the powers there only amplified her own, making her stronger, faster – and with the power of the Scythe backing her, the Slayer became Death itself, and it is in this manner that the last of the pure demons on this plane began to fall. Perhaps it could have continued this way, with her success the only outcome possible. But it was not to be, for when Aleo found his way onto the Isle, so screamed in despair for she knew that she had been tricked.

The most powerful of the demons had held back from the slaughter, watching their pawns be slaughtered wholesale, tiring the Slayer out. They unleashed their power upon her, and it would have been painful death indeed were it not for Avalon, for upon finding the twins gone from the Isle the Lord of the Druids scried for them, and upon finding them had roused the entire Isle to come to the Slayer's defense. Their wards were the only thing that allowed her to survive. She did not question this but instead raced to Aleo's side. The First Slayer was no fool; she knew that if she had been tricked onto this island then Aleo could only be another key part of evil's plans that day.

But she was too late – Aleo had tried to rush to her to, and in so doing stepped on the exact center of the island. She watched in horror as the Stoírm demon rose within him, possessing his body, and the power that it unleashed knocked everyone on the island over. Working quickly, the Stoírm began to recite the spell that would unleash the Elementals from their captivity. An eclipse rose, unnatural darkness that blanketed the Earth and aided the Stoírm in his goal. It was at this moment, however, that Adia found her way to the island.

The stress of seeing her brother – for that is the nature of demonic possession; there can be no life left for the host after the demon has finished using that which it has stolen in the first place – dying, horribly, before her eyes, coupled with the gore-streaked land that had been devoured by the demonic battle, was enough to burst through the shields that had been erected by Avalon. Adia simply threw herself toward her brother and suddenly found herself in his mind. She saw the Stoírm, saw its plan and the fact that her brother was likely to die, and then she contacted the Slayer and told her what she must do.

The Slayer knew that she must, even though it shattered what was left of her human self, and so agreed. At the moment that the Stoírm managed to open the portal to the Hell dimensions, the First Slayer raised the Scythe high and brought it down with a mighty swing…and cut off Aleo's head. He died instantly, and so did the Stoírm's connection with him. Adia took the Scythe from the Slayer and rushed to the portal. Grabbing the Slayer's arm, she raised the Scythe and unleashed the power within, which was enough to banish the last of the pure demons to Hell. The Slayer's fight had been won, and the Demonic Apocalypse was at its end...almost.

The Fire Elemental had been close, so close to tasting his freedom, for he had been at the forefront of those who would be unleashed from Hell. Before the portal could completely close, he reached through and grabbed a human from nearby Greece – or what would become Greece, in any event. This human woman, though no one knows her name or even if she is still alive, was grabbed by the Fire Elemental. He sank his fangs into her, but like any human, she fought for her life, for it is we humans who have the most desire to stay alive. She managed to scratch him enough to draw blood. In rage he let her go as he was sucked through the portal, but some of his blood fell into her mouth.

The blood raced through her veins, her being, radiating the fires of change, and she screamed in horror and pain as her human soul escaped. Her mind, however, remained the same, remained there to watch as a demon was born within her body, this demon who would bear her name and her face and her memories. The very first of the vampires was born that night. But the two left alive on Crete knew nothing of this; indeed, the world knew nothing of it until it was too late to stop that vampire, that Queen of the Damned as popular mythology would call her, from spreading her race, spreading the infection.

Tragedy has a way of drawing people together. Adia and the First Slayer became friends that day, for they had both had to murder that which they loved most in this world. Adia felt the pull of Avalon, and vowed that she would never return, for she blamed them for what had happened to her brother. The Slayer, also, vowed that she would not return to the Shadow Men, nor would she ever allow the power of the Scythe to fall into their greedy hands. She gave the Scythe to Adia, with Adia's promise that she would watch the Shadow Men, protecting the Slayer legacy, for they both knew that the Shadow Men would not stop with one Slayer. They parted ways that day, friends in their hearts, but never to see each other again.

**XI. **_**The Children of Bënnu**_

For years Adia had no contact with Avalon, and eventually the Coven stopped trying to scry for her, for it would do no good. All they knew was that she had started an order of young women who had magical abilities along the lines of Rakia's: empathy and telepathy; basically guarding magicks. These she had named the Guardians, and they protected the Slayer legacy, guarding the Scythe for whenever the Slayer should need it again. They also watched the Shadow Men, who constantly tinkered with the spell they had cast to make the First Slayer. For the Shadow Men were essentially power-hungry cowards, and so the fact that the First Slayer was too powerful and too scornful of them for them to control her made them nervous, thusly they decided that when the Slayer legacy should pass on from the First, the Slayer line would be less powerful, would be taught subservience to the Shadow Men.

They became the Watcher's Council. Yes, it is true, Rupert Giles, and I don't have time to argue with you. We are drawing close to the finish of this tale, and I would not be interrupted until it is finished.

In any case, the Guardians decided that their interference was necessary in the spell. Adia was by all accounts a wise woman, and knew that the power of Avalon would be integral in the spell that she was devising. So she decided that a peace offering could be made, as well as a solution to her other, less known problem. Adia was a twin, so the wilder, more daemonic parcel of the legacy of power passed down to her had been split into her twin, Aleo. Thus when Adia broke through the binding spell that had held her powers, Adia was alright to go on without the spell, because she could control her powers. Her daughter, however, was an only child, and had no such protection.

Alia, whom Adia named after Aleo, was born with massive power which she had no control over. Adia had been forced to keep her away from humans due to the girl's uncontrollable powers – and herein lies the danger of such massive power, especially in a child. Alia was overwhelmed by the forces around her of which she had no control. Any childish tantrum could lead to the destruction of a city, any fit of rage could lead to the deaths of those around her – family or strangers. And with her power already out of control, how much easier would it be for the Stoírm to take control of her and again try for his envisioned Armageddon? Adia tried again and again to place protective wards around her daughter to both keep her from hurting herself and to protect others from her, but again and again Alia's magic raged out of control, breaking through all bonds and burning everything around her that it touched. When finally Alia's magic nearly killed her, Adia admitted to herself what she had to do.

Adia arranged for an audience to be made with the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Druids, and sent that she would be bringing her daughter with her with a request for aid. The pair agreed quickly, for they feared Alia even then – Alia was everything they had feared that Adia and Aleo would become at the moment of their birth, and she seemed to confirm every fear that Helene had once had concerning Tíanna, when she had been tempted to slay the child while still in Atlantis. They struck a deal with Adia, who had known that it was coming, and though her grief was great, what else could she do but agree? In exchange for the power of Avalon behind her spell, Adia surrendered Alia to the isle that the child's powers would be bound before she killed everything around her and drove herself mad. Even then, they were nearly too late; Alia saw many things that were not there and could not be there, lost in a sort of madness for the rest of her life.

But the deal was done, and so the spell was cast: the Slayer line would continue, one girl in all the world, for it had been decided by the Shadow Men that it should be a girl, and at the death of each Slayer a new one would be called. What the Shadow Men did not know then was that we interfered with their spell, and decreed that each Slayer would be chosen by the God and the Goddess equally. The Slayer would be the one girl who could be called a true hero in every sense of the word – a warrior of Light with the potential to save the world in every way that she could. So do not despair that the essence of a demon lives inside of you, Buffy – you were chosen by a force of light greater than you could possibly imagine, and you were chosen for many reasons, all of them good.

When the spell was cast, Adia vanished from the Isle, back to her Order of Guardians, never to be seen or heard from again. Of the Guardians themselves, we do not know what happened to them or if they still exist today. Their secrets and their power, as well as the Scythe of the Slayer, have been lost to time.

Now, it was time to bind Alia. They went over the spell that Ferro had left them and worked on it for over a year, all the while keeping Alia locked in the caves over the Nexus so that her power would not overwhelm her. When they were sure they had added every safeguard, ensured that the spell would last for many, many years, Alia was released from her prison, free to work for her keep on the island, for they would not let her leave for fear that their spell would not last. A prison, perhaps, but a necessary one, and not just for her but for all around her. Alia had two children, a boy and girl, and then they had their children, but never more than two – this was not our work, just the power of the line; they rarely had more than one child. So it went for…well, for a long time, and each of those children has their own story to tell. However, we are concerned with but one, now.

After…well, too many years to count, the Isle of Avalon had withdrawn completely from the world – we had no choice, you see. After the Church rose to power and demonized the Old Religion, labeling its' practitioners worshipers of Satan and wives of demons, there was naught else that we _could_ do. During all of this, however, one of the descendants of the Atlantean line had fallen in love with a young Druid who had rejected his powers. He should never have been brought onto the island, for he had been raised in the church, and feared that he had somehow signed the Devil's Book by being brought to the island. We were fully prepared to let him go, erasing the memory of the Isle from his mind, of course, to lead his own life. However, the girl – her name was Aimee – believed herself a freak and an outcast for being one of the few on Avalon with no magical power. Though we tried to be discreet, she was always watched, and therefore, when the boy – David Bënnu – hatched a plan to escape from the Witches' Island, as we were known, she begged him to take her with him. He agreed, and late one night, they vanished from Avalon.

How they made it through the veil of mists parting Avalon from the world, we shall never know, but it is apparent that they did make it. They faded into the mists of time, but their progeny continued. Whatever adventures or misadventures they had are also lost to time, for Avalon could not find them again. We in fact had nearly forgotten about the entire line, save for the ancient scrolls of the story that had been saved carefully by the historians of Avalon – it is from them that I tell you this story now.

Perhaps it could have gone on like this indefinitely were it not for the fact that over the millennia, the spell that originally bound the Atlantean bloodline has begun to weaken, to wear. Now, this alone might not have been dangerous – but the ancient enemy of humanity is the one who we must remember is the one whom we are fighting, and any chance that he can seize to take control is one he will take to unleash Armageddon: the Stoírm has been plotting his plot for an eternity, and he who is bound in Hell is always watching, always waiting, for any weakness through which he can break free and again attempt to finish his monstrous designs.

And so, our story continues through the descendants of Aimee and David, down through the ages, to a young woman named Jessica Benew, and the events which sparked the fire that has culminated today – the birth of one Alexander Lavelle Harris.

**XII. **_**The Trials of Jessica Harris**_

Jessica Benew was born in Sunnydale, overtop of the Hellmouth – we don't have proof as to whether or not this was contrived specifically, or whether it was just Jessica's dark heritage that led her to this accursed town. In any case, she met a young construction worker named Tony Harris while she was in high school. By all accounts, they fell in love – even though Alexander himself does not know this, though this was not his fault. They married out of high school, and Tony began working construction, while Jessica ran a daycare center out of the home. They were very happy, and Tony continued in his great joy when he found out that his young wife was pregnant.

Jessica, however, was not happy – in fact, she was terrified.

Jessica had, from an early age, inherited her many times great-grandfather's abhorrence of magic, and it was that fear which had overtaken her since childhood. Jessica had telepathic abilities, and, when it suited her, she could influence the minds of those around her. She also had some other quiet mental skills, and a disturbing influence over the elements around her. However, the Avalon Coven never sought her out, for instances of her actually _using_ these powers were very few and far-between. She believed that she was a target of dark powers, and she began to take refuge in church. She got very good at ignoring what was around her – and this was of course fed by the mystic power of the Hellmouth at keeping its occupants free of worry while its demonic denizens wreak havoc on the world above.

She never told Tony about any of this, fearing that he would think her a freak and reject her. Instead she simply repressed, more and more, until it came to pass that any powers she may have had grew so weak from disuse that they nearly passed out of existence. And this may have been her life, had destiny not intervened.

Evil exists in the world today – and it always will; the balance will continue regardless of how we fight to keep good dominant over evil. And it is the nature of evil to find evil, to join together for want of more power and in worship of higher power. Power is everything to demons, and it is the dream of many vampires to break through the dimensional barriers – specifically through this Hellmouth, but also elsewhere – and try to bring the Old Ones back. Avalon's memory is long, but so are the memories of immortal demons, and the story of the Elementals is still known in certain ancient remnants of the Underworld.

An ancient demonic sect known as _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ have dedicated themselves for many years to restoring the Elementals to power, to bringing about the Armageddon that their masters wish. They have known that their best way of doing so has always been through Rakia's bloodline. This may not have been important, but as I have said, the ancient Binding Spell had begun to dissipate through the bloodline – particularly in Jessica's case. Those brief moments when her power flared may not have been of interest to Avalon, but they were of great interest to _Tiocfaidh ár lá_. They recognized the taint of their master within her power, and set about trying to find her.

You see, now that they knew that the Binding Spell was no longer shielding Rakia's bloodline from the manipulation or influence needed to unleash Armageddon, they believed that Jessica may have been the witch referred to in the prophesy of the Doorway. Yes, that prophesy, Mr. Giles – but the Watcher's Council does not have the full prophesy, for they've never been able to decipher its meaning. Here it is in full:

_From ancient line the power will rise_

_The Mother Witch will be born_

_And she will again open the Box_

_And the door will be born between the two worlds_

_And the Doorway will open_

_And Hell will pour out_

_From the Mouth it will belch_

_Like sulfurous magma_

_And there will be many who fight to close the door_

_Champions of mighty heart joined with demons of purest dark_

_But ultimately the power that affects those of both worlds_

_Will be the Key to close the Door._

Do you understand now, Mr. Giles, why that particular prophesy was so important to them?

All the while that Jessica and Tony were married – two years – neither of them knew of the desperate hunt being carried out for Jessica Harris. Instead, they lived in blissful ignorance. I have only had occasion to meet Jessica and Tony once, myself, which shall come later in the story. I do not recognize them from what I know of their past. You yourself have met them, I believe; you understand what I mean. They were once happy, truly happy. But alas, that was not meant to be. Prophesies are tricky creatures, and while there are those that can be fought, like this one, were the right people aware of what to do, as we should have been, there are also others – such as the one prophesying the Slayer to die, and yet she stands here victorious over the Master.

Well, what may have been done to stop this prophesy from coming to pass, we may never know. All we know is that after years of searching, ­­­_ Tiocfaidh ár lá_ was finally drawn to the Hellmouth, where they found Jessica, and sensed at once exactly what she was. They knew that they had found their goal – but they also could see, after watching her, that Jessica had repressed who she truly was. They could not force her to fulfill her accursed destiny as the Witch Mother if she was not open to the power they would need to force through her – she would have to become a true conduit before she could be used. It was decided that she would be tested – a Trial, to ensure that she was who they thought she was, that she could do what they so hoped she could do.

They travelled to the school that was located over the Hellmouth, and there they summoned a demon. The demon's name was Neithal – Mistress of Misery. She has the ability to become intangible, haunting her victims' lives, wringing every drop of happiness out of them, which she devours. If she chooses to not kill her victims, she leaves them insane, soulless animals with nothing left within them but sorrow. If they do not kill themselves, they are usually driven to kill most everything around them.

If Jessica really _was_ the fulfillment of the prophesy, then she would be able to call on her innate powers and fight off the demon. If she was not, then they had still managed to locate the Bloodline, which they had sought for centuries. They could call the demon off of her until she could procreate, and then kidnap the child and raise he or she for themselves to further their ends. Either way, they would be one step closer to finishing what their master had started so long ago, with Avalon blind to what was happening. Would that we could be everywhere at once! We could have spared this poor girl so much pain, so much suffering…but it was not to be.

Neithal began in the Dream World. Nightmares are easy to conjure for those who are born riding the blackness of terror they spread. For those who know what nightmares are, who know the power of dreams, they can use the nightmares for their own ends – learn from them until they overcome their terror, for instance. But Jessica, remember, had rejected her own power to the point that it was all but chained into her subconscious. She had no defenses, especially while sleeping. She would wake in the middle of the night bathed in sweat, plagued by dreams of which she had no comprehension – wars, plagues, destruction. She swam through rivers of blood and gore to find that her family was dead on the other side. It became so bad that Jessica would stay awake for weeks on end.

If Neithal could not reach her in dreams, then the demoness would wander in the waking world, however. Jessica was affected by a deep-seated sense of paranoia; she saw enemies wherever she looked. She could not stand to be in a large crowd, for fear of what she did not know but was sure was there. Tony began to avoid being home because Jessica cleaved to him. She could not bear to let him out of her sight, for he was the only one she did not suspect – but that was not for long, for the longer he stayed away from home, the more suspicious she became. Her agitation led to even greater fights between her and her husband; eventually, he began to avoid his home for even greater amounts of time.

Jessica sequestered herself in her home; she never went out, for any reason. What reason was there to go out when there was so much to fear? She lost all of life's simple pleasures – Neithal, feeding both upon Jessica's energies and the darkness of the Hellmouth, had a vast source of raw, uninterrupted power with which to fuel her torments. Jessica became locked in a sort of dream-state, where she could trust nothing her eyes could see. Demons, ghouls, goblins and terrors glimmered through her peripheral vision but dissolved when she turned to look. She felt hunted wherever she went, and in an effort to escape, she took to sleeping in greater and greater increments.

But there was no escape, even in sleep, for these things were created from her own darkness, her own nightmares, and how can a waking nightmare be escaped in sleep? She alternated between sleeping for days on end and staying awake for a week. She stopped eating, nearly altogether. She could have no water unless it was filtered, for fear of poison and also simply fear. Her friends avoided her, her family refused to speak to her. She, in short, was abandoned by all those who, if they had stood beside her, may have helped her through this. On the other hand, however, those that may have leant her strength would themselves have likely become targets for _Tiocfaidh ár lá_, for they felt that nothing must interfere with their test.

It was…a very, very changed Jessica Harris who staggered into Father Thomas's church service, one cold, bitter morning. Service had let out, and he was about to close the door when in came someone who he wasn't even sure was human. She was thin to the point of wraithlike, pale as ice. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, her eyes hollow and bruised. Had she not once been a member of his congregation, he would never have known that this was once the bright and beautiful Jessica Benew, who had become the smiling Jessica Harris one bright summer day.

It was the first and last time that Jessica ever attempted to hide behind the religion that she had once sheltered herself in, so long ago. She gave her confession to Father Thomas that morning – a conversation we would have known nothing about, while we were trying to piece together this story (a part that comes later) had it not been for a curious young nun, Sister Arielle, who listened.

"_Forgive me father, for I have sinned," the girl said. Her voice was a hoarse, horrible croak; it sent shivers down the spine to listen to it. It was the voice of someone haunted, someone possessed of a sort of death of the soul that you could see in those who thought of suicide. There was nothing more pathetic, more pitiable…or more terrifying. "It's been…so long since my last confession…"_

"_All matters of time are not important to God, Jessica." Father Thomas is trying to be gentle, trying to not spook her as you could spook a wild animal if you startled them. He wants her to stay, wants to help her, to save her, as he always does. There's not a soul that the good father would not choose to attempt to save, and this is perhaps what has driven Jessica to him. Months of the hell that she had somehow been given, unfairly, for who could possibly deserve this unless it was someone so bad, so terrible that they called it upon themselves with their actions? She must be responsible. Must be._

"_Time…" she says bitterly now. "I don't even notice it anymore. The drinking helps, of course. Guess my liver's shot to shit by now." The crude words fall easily from lips that had once been given to smiling, and for a moment Thomas can't speak, overwhelmed suddenly by a sense of _otherness_ in Jessica, something that when she had been so bright and beautiful had been hidden. But now there is something there, something extra behind that bitterness…something dark and angry, daemonic. He fights the urge to begin thinking the prayer of the exorcist._

"_Jessica, what has happened?" he asks quietly. He must know, must understand what has wrought this horrible transformation in this most favored of God's daughters._

"_I don't _know_!" Jessica snarls, suddenly enraged. "Why the hell else would I be here?! LOOK AT ME!" This last is a scream, one that she has been holding within herself for so long that it fights its way out like an animal clawing out of a bear trap. "I don't know I don't understand why this is happening and always it's _there_ and everything's wrong and dark and I don't know I don't understand…" She starts off strong and angry but her words all run together, a babble of a hurt and bewildered child, but a child that could fly into a rage at the wrong words._

"_I've noticed that you don't come to church anymore," he begins gently. "Maybe we can start with that, and you can tell me."_

"_What is there in church but empty religion with its empty promises and an angry God that turns a blind eye to suffering, saying that it makes you strong?" she asks, her voice vicious in her anger. "If God hasn't noticed what I'm going through by now to stop it, then He must be alright that it's happening, right? I must be so evil, so dark to deserve this…" Her fists are clenched so hard that she's drawing blood. She absently licks the crescent cuts away, and Father Thomas feels an irrational urge to stop her, to stop the behavior before it gets worse. He wants to shelter her from the dark so that she can't hurt anymore._

"_What's wrong? What's happened to you, Jessica? Where is that bright child who once sang in my choir?" he whispers sadly._

"_I think she's dead," Jessica says quietly. There is grief in her voice now, a grief so profound that Father Thomas can't understand what raw pain there must be behind it for her voice to reach such a lamentation. "I think that I've lost her and there's no finding her again."_

"_How was she lost?" When all else fails, be practical._

"_For…months…I don't know…last Spring, maybe…it's like…I'm never alone…" she whispers haltingly. He can feel an urge in her, an inclination to expel the poison coursing through her with the words, but it's almost like something's fighting her, though whether it's from inside of her or outside of her, there's no telling. "Everything is dark. Everything I touch breaks. I have to lock myself in the basement so that I don't shatter another thing I love." Her voice is getting stronger now, as though she's needed so bad to tell this to someone that…he doesn't know. He doesn't know._

"_Everything is dark. I can't see the Sun anymore, can't feel its warmth. All that I have is the night, the dark, cold night and all its shadows. I'm never alone…there's something, someone. There's no good left in the world, Garrett, there's no light. It's all black. All night. And. I. Don't. Know. How. To. Stop. IT!" And she is crying now, crying which is perhaps the first step toward finding a remedy for her._

"_Jessica," he says. "Come here." At first she resists, but her body is so hungry for touch, for comfort, that her feet betray her and she finds herself staggering into his embrace. _

"_Help," she whispers. He holds her all the tighter. _

"_I will." It is a promise, a pact that can save her, that can stop this._

_It is a pact that can never be made. For in that moment, his crucifix swings around his neck, and the moment it touches her neck she screams and jerks away, horrified. The crucifix has left a dark red welt on her neck, sizzling with burn. He leaps away with a shout of horror. For in the instant the blessed metal touched her it burned hot with holy fire, and that fire illuminated a shadow, a shade, an unnatural darkness clinging to Jessica, leaching off of her energy, lapping up her tears._

_Neithal has been revealed. The Demon of Misery reels back, flies back, beautiful in her horror. Her hair is long and waving around her head in a phantom wind. It is black silk, like dark diamonds, coffee and bloody chocolate. Her skin is pale and misty, and she is nearly translucent. Her eyes burn a fiery garnet red, splintered into jewel-like facets that pierce through you and learn everything about you in an instant. Her nose is large, shapely, made for sniffing out the goodness in you that she may better devour it. Her lips are large and blood-red. Her arms end in nothing, for a phantom needs no hands. She has no feet either. She is clothed in swirling darkness, a tantalizing evil that shifts around her with every move. She has no pubis, no vagina, and it is a horrifying missing thing, for somehow she has wondrous breasts and large dark nipples that inspire arousal. Moths to a flame._

_Jessica screams and screams the scream of the truly hysterical. This is too much for her to bear, to truly see the image that has lived in and out of her nightmares, always hovering, always fattening off of the good and feeding the bad. In Neithal, Jessica sees true evil and so weeps at the hideous longing that sweeps out from that bad bad place that she has suppressed for so long. There is glory in this evil, such wondrous darkness. Cold earth, buried forever but rising through the surface as the worms sing songs of ancientness behind you and you are so sure of your power that you could fly and fight together, burning in midnight flame and hurting and destroying without care or conscience._

_Any path to the Divine is something that is good, something that is right, whether you use it for unscrupulous ends or not. Father Thomas is one of those few souls who is truly good, truly merciful. He embodies everything that is good in humanity, so Neithal cannot feed off of him. But he can hurt her. He throws himself in front of Jessica._

"_Be gone, demon! Torment this child no longer!" And he holds the crucifix above his head. Neithal jerks away as it burns brighter. "I command you to leave! BEGONE!" And miraculously she is gone, gone, gone. Jessica begins to laugh hysterically. Father Thomas turns to her with his benign smile. She is still laughing hysterically when Neithal bursts through the floor with a screech of rage and vanishes straight into Father Thomas' body._

_There is a ripple of pure darkness…Neithal is flying away from the body…Father Thomas' face is frozen in horror at touching such pure evil…he is falling…blood is everywhere, somehow, dripping from the rafters, from the balcony…so much blood…surely one human cannot hold this much…_

_And something within Jessica Harris snaps that day. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" But it is too late. The one that could have helped her is gone. Dead. It is her fault. And she has been pushed one step too far._

_Those of Sunnydale, California who are Jessica's age still remember that day. There is a ripple of pure power that is loosed upon the Hellmouth, a darkness and a yearning and a rage. Jessica is hovering above the ground, so pale, so inhuman. Her eyes glow a furious black. There is nothing within her that is human, that is good. That is merciful. Neithal shrinks back, but it is too late. "Die," Jessica says coldly. Neithal can do naught but obey the power of the Bloodline. She ripples and shrieks and convulses and melts into a puddle of black acid that burns an evil stain into the stones of the chapel._

_Tony Harris ran all the way from his construction site that day to the chapel, driven by what he did not know. When he arrived he found his wife unconscious next to the gruesome demise of Father Thomas. Still driven by love for Jessica, he grabs his wife and runs from the scene. He takes her clothes to a dumpster and strips her unconscious body, wrapping her in his coat. He sticks to back alleys and back streets and carries her all the way home._

_Sister Arielle steps out of her corner. She is frozen in a horrible rectus of sorrow and fear and pain. She cannot speak. She will never speak again._

It was necessary for us to erase her memory of the event when we gleaned the information from her mind. She still says not one word, but she is happy. She doesn't remember the cause of her vow, only that she uses it in service to God. She is, I think, one of the truly good souls in that convent, even to today.

**XIII. **_**Jessica's Nightmare and the Birth of the Doorway**_

Tony's rescue of Jessica did what it could to reconnect the couple, though it also distanced them. Tony is one who is affected by the magic of the Hellmouth partly because it is in his nature to ignore what is inexplicable and rationalize what he can. He never spoke of the incident to his wife, and she did not speak of it to him. It was enough for both of them that, without Neithal's ministrations, Jessica was regaining weight and confidence. They did not watch the news, did not speak of the investigation that had Sunnydale rife with gossip at the wonder of what had happened at the Church. The one nun who could have told the police what had happened was under a self-imposed silence and would not speak. All that anyone knew was that the mangled body of Father Thomas was found, completely drained of blood, among a gore-splattered chapel near a strange, acidic burn stain.

There were, however, three groups intensely interested in what had happened in Sunnydale, California: The Isle of Avalon, the Watchers' Council, and _Tiocfaidh ár lá_. Of the three, only _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ knew what had happened, of course. The Watchers sent their first operative to the Hellmouth that year, and we sent ours. The Council was interested in the demonic aspects of the mystery. Avalon was interested in the ripple of power that was released when Jessica unleashed her rage upon Neithal. Both were sent to the Church. What the Council found, I am not sure. We, however, had not heard of Sister Arielle at that time, and so we were not able to piece together what had happened until it was far too late. Our curiosity aroused, and an ancient sense of fear that we could not explain, however, prompted us to action. We decided that we would keep a watch over the Hellmouth, for there had been a happening there that simple dark energy let out from the portal could not explain.

And so we left, none the wiser of _Tiocfaidh ár lá_'s plans.

_Tiocfaidh ár lá_ had achieved what they had been waiting and watching for for so long, and had only been waiting for our departure to put into place the next stage of their plan. Jessica had fulfilled the prophesied requirements to the point where there could be little doubt that she was indeed the Mother Witch of legend. Now their plans could reach full fruition. They travelled out into the desert that borders the North of Sunnydale, and there they summoned the wraith of their master.

The Stoírm, though he was no longer flesh, was just as strong, just as terrifying as remembered in legend. His fury at being summoned by humans was great, causing a ferocious sandstorm that would have killed each and every one of his cult had they not been able to send the equivalent of a telepathic bomb into his mind, flashing their allegiance and their plan to him. The Stoírm knew at once what this meant – the furthering of his goal, the last step toward cementing his Armageddon. He allowed his spirit to be placed reverently within a bloodstone crystal, for as I've said before crystals have infinite storage space within them, and also serve as focusers of power.

During all of this, Jessica and Tony were attempting to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. Tony had been promoted at work and it was decided that they would celebrate with a dinner at home. Wine was uncorked and dinner cooked, and that night they met again as husband and wife in flesh as they had not for months. After this, they fell into the deepest of sleeps, as lovers often do, for there is no safer place that a human being shall feel that beside those they love. The storm that blasted outside of their windows never woke them, though it woke the neighbors – being as it was that the storm was only concentrated over their city block. Wind lashed the windows next to lawns that were perfectly dry. Fierce thunderheads battled for dominance over a clear night sky, and lightning forked the air over the street singled out by the storm.

In the light of the lightning bolts arcing throughout the sky, the High Priest of _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ travelled to the Harris household. Tonight's timing had been planned perfectly during the desert. A lunar eclipse was due to start soon – and it must be during this time that this most powerful of evil magicks was to be performed, for it erased the sight of the Goddess from the night, leaving only blackness, death and mystery. In short, it was the perfect night for conjuring the Harbinger of Armageddon, and this was what the High Priest intended to do.

Into the Harris household he crept, up the stairs, through the rooms, until he stood above the sleeping forms of Tony and Jessica Harris. Dust stolen from a faerie spirit most commonly known in folklore as a Sandman ensured their continued sleep. The High Priest stood still as a statue, only his breathing indicating that he was human, alive. There he staid, not moving to so much as blink…until the clock struck 2:37 a.m., and the lunar eclipse began.

Withdrawing from a sacred shamanic pouch near his waist the bloodstone crystal, the Priest waited, waited, calmly waited. The Mother Witch slept on serenely, unaware that her fragile peace that she had finally found again was about to disintegrate once more. The powerful, white light of the Moon flashed brilliantly, in vain, a white diamond screaming to Her children that evil was abroad in the land. No one heard her, not even Avalon, for they did not know then to look.

The Moon vanished into darkness.

The Priest slowly lowered his and placed the burning hot crystal directly over Jessica's heart. Though the brain controls the body during sleep, it is from heart and subconscious that dreams emanate through our being, guiding us into the Dream World. The burning, hellish stone invaded Jessica's body with a whisper, a sigh of pleasure, pleasure derived from all things horrible, the power of entropy and of destruction, of death and blood and fire that burns all in its path. Jessica was powerless against the Stoírm's rape of her mind, and she was consumed, whisked along the fire of the crystal that burned her very veins to parchment, and found herself in a nightmare.

_She was swirling, flying through the ether, a vaguely hard substance that could be stepped upon that glowed green like acid, green like poison and vileness and wickedness. Green like greed, green like…she spun spun spun until dizzy dizzy dizzy, and she was suddenly aware in the eerie twilight she was trapped in that she was not alone. She turned to find the Stoírm standing there, regarding her calmly._

_It was a marvelous creature, marvelous in the nature of evil. Pale as ice, perfectly formed in human shape, its muscles bulged and flexed. His erection was mammoth and waiting for her, and she found herself warm and cold and aroused and repelled all at once. Wings spread out behind him, and she could feel his aura. He was the Prince of Night, King of Sorrow, Master of Misery, but his eyes…when she looked into their cold blackness, she recognized him._

"_You," she whispered. Kinship here, family here. This was who she was, this was what had killed Father Thomas. Demon. The word sprang into her mind unbidden, and she knew it was from him. There could be nothing human where they were, her and her many-times great-grandfather. She could feel something bright and warm leave her, and there was nothing but the devil left, the darkness she could try and try to suppress but was so strong within her. There was nothing but excitement left, nothing but her stiff nipples and the wetness between her thighs and fire that was burning all around her and burning her too but not burning her, no. This was evil._

_They flew together, then, and they spoke wordlessly. Landing suddenly she knew that they were in a large city but where they were she could not say. She could feel her power coursing through her and saw that she was dressed in white – a wedding present. She felt herself laughing hysterically, felt the laughter bubbling up and over like acid through her stomach. She danced through the streets._

_Snow fell around her and she shivered though whether it was in cold or delight she could not say. She felt others around her and saw that many were staring at her and she laughed again. With a flicker of thought three people were dead at her feet, their blood pulsing through the snow burning ruby rivers and she giggled and danced to the music pounding from her heart. The screams of the dying coursed through her as she flicked a finger and buildings toppled. Was he still with her, her father-lover? She did not know nor did she care as she ran up a building in a single bound and then crumbled what looked like a post office with a clenched fist and a thought._

_There was no guilt here, there was no craven groaning. She was what she was, beautiful in her power. She _was_ power, absolute and pure, and there was nothing that she could not do, no one that could stop her. She burned with the knowledge and danced with the stars, swam through the oceans and burned in the fires of the volcanoes. She burst through the veil of realities and found that Otherplace where he was waiting for her, where she knew that he would be. He was like a fertility god, the father of evil, really, erect and waiting for her. She felt an ancient hunger, like a sung spell, course through her and she was suddenly naked in front of him, wet and burning._

_He took her hard, raped her and loved her and cursed her and kissed her all at once. They never spoke a word to each other, never had to. She was flying among the stars, trapped in ice, trapped in diamonds that whispered their secrets to her, whispered to her of her evil, her mastery. She knew that this was where she belonged. Knowing that, she wept, and in the tears her human side began to wake up again. The green mist dissolved and she was alone, and she was bleeding, the bastard, but who was the bastard what had happened?_

_Why was she so cold?_

Jessica and Tony both started awake at the conclusion of the storm to a world gone mad with color, for such is the way it is after storms. The grass had a wild zing to it that it did not usually have, the sky a deeper cerulean. There was a red rash on Jessica's breast over her heart that she did not tell Tony about. She did not remember the dream, though whether that was simple repression or magical intervention I cannot say. She was, however, filled with a sense of psychic intuition, and intuition she would have scoffed at and denied mere months ago. Now, however, she embraced it as a certainty of goodness.

Jessica was pregnant, though how she knew it she could not say.

It soon became apparent to Tony as well, and by all accounts they were both very happy. It seemed to them as if the basic goodness of the world that all hardworking, good people should inherit was again with them, as if the malignant past could no longer hurt them. So much hope rose within the swelling of Jessica's womb.

It was not a normal pregnancy, even from the start.

Jessica had been warned that she would crave strange foods, but surely this desire for rare meat was not normal? She refused to question this, however, and simply researched recipes that would instill her child with good protein. She would then feel hot flashes of amazing incandescence, burning flames shooting through her entire body that would leave her sweating and heaving on the floor with no memory of fainting. She would not tell this to Tony, however; she feared for the happiness, the normalcy that they had only just now achieved again. Following the hot flashes were icy shoots, numbing pain that spread out from her fingers until it seemed that her entire being were frozen alive, a statue, marble and nothing else. She shivered and shivered until she bruised herself and no amount of heat could help her. Still she said nothing to Tony.

The psychic nature of the baby continued to be inherent as Jessica's own flashes of intuition began to grow along with the swell of her belly. She knew who each caller on the phone was without needing to check, she could tell the truth from a lie before the speaker had even finished their sentence, and when she was in a hormonal mood lights would flicker on and off, the walls would swell slightly. She pretended she did not notice this, however, and insisted on consulting an electrician. I must, however, counsel pity for the child. She was not ignorant, far from it; she was simply afraid, and she had every right to be, considering what she had been through. She repressed as hard as she could to protect her own psyche, as any of us might have done in her situation.

In any case, it was not possible to ignore the increased term of her pregnancy. She had fully expected to be pregnant for the full nine or ten months, but she was at near eleven months before she finally consulted a doctor. She was terrified, and had been waking up with increasing nightmares of a still birth, a stone baby inside of her that no longer had even the semblance of life. The truth, however, was stranger: the babe was healthy and indeed still growing within her. The doctor was not sure how this was possible, but there could be no denying the truth.

Jessica returned home, determined to tell everyone that it was a simple medical condition. She would not consider any other option. So she continued to eat as healthily as possible, to aid Tony as much as she could in the building of a nursery for their child. She researched baby names and picked out Alexander or Alexandria (even though she knew it was a boy, she felt that she needed to include a _what-if_ scenario girl's name). She would name her child "Defender of Mankind," and he would grow up strong and good, expelling that darkness which had plagued her before his birth and forced the circumstances in Father Thomas' death that fateful day in the chapel.

She carried the baby inside of her for a year and a day, exactly as long as her ancestor Rakia had once carried her daughter, though Jessica did not know this. She was rushed into the hospital that night. Those who were working inside the hospital never forgot that night.

In the middle of the night, close to midnight, the sky began to darken. A massive cloud, just one, so heavy that the Earth seemed to shrink under its weight, an evil, smothering blanket. The very air stank of ozone, the ground trembling slightly. A boom of thunder that sent shivers through the foundations of even the crumbling castle on the outskirts of Sunnydale heralded the start of the storm of the century, as Sunnydalers jokingly refer to it now. Lightning struck in crazed patterns, drawing pictures of suffering and starting fires the fire department could not fight, for with the lightning came the rain, nearly a monsoon, a torrential downpour that wiped away everything in its path. Sunnydale flooded for the first time in a century, cars wiped down the road.

In the midst of this, Sunnydale Hospital was trying desperately to keep its doors open on a backup supply of electricity as they tried to keep the survivors of the storm safe. It was in this chaos that a man and his enormously pregnant wife appeared in the emergency room. Tony was supporting Jessica but looked about to collapse from the weight. The doctors and nurses rushed to his aid, and as soon as they strapped her to the gurney, the thunder cracked once again. The clock had struck midnight; the day after the year mark had begun, and the Witching Hour was beginning to unfurl.

The trauma of the birth was such that Jessica barely remembered it. The babe had grown so large within her that it was fighting its way out of her womb, tearing it. Blood soaked the sheets and the orderlies had to fight a hysterical Tony Harris out of the room as his wife appeared to be dying on the hospital bed. His worries were not groundless; it was the nature of the child that his mother should die that he might live. The baby did not know this, of course, but it was true. Jessica Harris slipped from this life at 12:49 a.m. that day, as Alexander LaVelle Harris screamed his first breath.

The Stoírm made one mistake here, you see, for it was he who had conjured the storm, a sort of demonic celebration of the birth of his heir, the prophesied Doorway. His _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ stood outside the hospital, ready to kill Tony Harris and take the child with them, for the mother was prophesied to not survive the birth. But, as you all will have learnt, prophesies are tricky creatures. Jessica Harris did die that night. But she was descended from Rakia and from Ferro, from Pandora and Necrom, from Adia and Aleo and Alia and on and on, the greatest of Bloodlines to exist on the planet. She was strong in ways that no one else will ever be strong. And when that final burst of thunder, that final shock of lightning slammed from the Astral Plane into our world, Jessica's spirit, carried by a great sense of purpose, somehow found the strength to turn from the Light that all souls cross into and slam back into her body.

At 1:00 exactly, Jessica gasped a breath, then another. Her heart thumped wildly, spurting blood everywhere, and the surgeons were forced to work for another hour to stop it. Sometime around 2:30, Jessica was wheeled into recovery and she and Tony were presented with their child.

**888**

A/N: Finished! With Part I, at least. Now I just have to keep going with Part II...sigh. Huge, huge sigh. It's not that I'm not enjoying writing this, because I definitely am, it's just such a huge thing to keep going with. Ugh! Well, I am at least hugely proud of this thing, so whether you guys like it or not, I have no regrets about posting it.

Now, as I've said, the next chapter should be up by the end of next week (again, let me say this is the **_very_** latest that it should take, seeing as how I've only got basic stuff and editing left to do on it), so don't think that I'm leaving you hanging out of my love of cliffhangers - I'm not even kidding, the thing was past fifty pages when I stopped to check and I just wasn't sure whether you guys were going to want to read something that huge in one sitting.

Notice how I've broken it up, though? It helps to stand up and walk away sometimes.

And I do know that it's a massive amount of information here, but all of it is important to the story at large, so don't skip over parts of it. Please. For cookies?

Anyway, I'll just finish here by shamelessly fishing for reviews. If there are any questions that you might have, please include them in your review and I'll answer them in next chapter's author's note. Other than that, I hope you've enjoyed reading this massive history.

PIMPAGE!! Real quick: _Nightmare Revisited_ is an amazing album that I've bought, and features such wonders as "Sally's Song" by Amy Lee of Evanescence, "Kidnap the Sandy Claws" by KoRn, "What's This?" by Flyleaf, "This Is Halloween" by Marilyn Manson, and "Making Christmas" by Rise Against. It's a wonderful album and should be included in all libraries. Also, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Score album is truly a wonder and is heavily recommended to all fans of the show.

Great weekend, guys. I think I have carpol tunnel.


	22. XIX, Part II: Hecate

**A/N: Back again! **I'm _**SO**_ sorry that I haven't been able to post this chapter online as fast as I promised, but I got a job since the last time that I posted and it's been hectic to say the least as I shot through training (because I _of course_ got stuck with douche bags who don't know how to lift a finger to work!). Not to mention National Novel Writing Month, having to maintain my new Live Journal (more on that in a minute), getting into a writing contest, school, family drama, money drama, Christmas money drama, MORE family drama…These last months have been _really_ sucky, actually.

And my matrilineal grandfather died.

To top all of this, my hours at work have been getting cut like hell lately, and Christmas? Lousy time of year to be broke. My new boss is an überbitch and…well, the shit keeps rolling into a big ball.

So, after all of this, it's taken me a little bit to post this, but I'm sorry and here it is. So if you'd like to keep up with my news my new Live Journal, look up pfenix-goddess . livejournal . com – only without the spaces, of course. I should be updating that too.

**ALSO: I'VE GOT TWO OTHER ONE-SHOTS POSTED ALONG WITH THIS TO GIVE YOU GUYS A SORT OF CHRISTMAS/WHATEVER MAJOR HOLIDAY YOU CELEBRATE (INCLUDING NO HOLIDAY FOR YOU ATHEISTS OUT THERE) GIFT! THEY WILL BE POSTED BY THE END OF THIS WEEK!**

Also, in case anyone's interested, I'm slowly but surely adding this story, chapter by chapter, to the excellent Xander-centric fanfiction website I Need a Parrot, under my new penname Pfenix_Goddess. I'm not sure if I'm going to change my penname on FanFiction, but it might happen.

_**These bolded subcategories of information might help you in the reading process. And I will respond to my reviewers.**_

**888!!!!!~~~SPECIAL NOTE** – As many of you will have noticed during the course of this story, the word "Wiccan" pops up several times. Here's what I will say about this so that you understand my usage.

In _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, Willow's religion is constantly in question. Through seasons two (you don't speak about it in season one) to five, I believe, Willow maintains herself to be Jewish. After the fifth season she is heard to say things like "Oh my Goddess" several times; and it can be assumed that she has switched her religion due to the fact that practicing witchcraft in Jewish terms is a Hell-worthy offense and is punishable by death. However, she is very much a "Show-Witch" for lack of a better term; she is the kind of "Wiccan" that _Charmed_ and _The Craft_ depict. In the show itself she is referred to as "a Wicca," which is not a term at all – unless you study etymology.

"Wicca" has been studied extensively and can be traced back to several variations of _wicca_ or _wittan_ that mean "wise (person)" or _wicce_, which is an old form of "witch." I use the term "Wiccan" as a blanket term for "Witch" in this story, as Avalon was formed so far back that they watched Old English come up and adopted the language for themselves. You can assume in this story that the religion Wicca came from a human practitioner who learned from an actual Witch at some point or another.

I would like to point out that religiously I will not state my own religion in this sense, and whether I agree or disagree with certain beliefs' teachings, I will always try my hardest to pay all religions equal respect: Wicca, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Catholicism, Paganism…the list goes on and on. Please keep in mind that this is a _**FICTIONAL**_ story and no offense should be taken by any of these religions.

**Notes on Pronunciation**

Stoírm = Stoy-erm

Adia = A dee uh

Alia = Ah LEE uh

Aleo = Ah LEE oh

Rakia = Rah kee uh

Ferro = pronounced like "Pharaoh"

Neithal = Nigh-tall

Tíanna = Tee ah na

Bënnu = Bay new

_Tiocfaidh ár lá_ = chuck-hee awr law

Hecate = Heck uh Tay

**Notes on the Language** – The snatches of "Atlantean," so to speak, that you will hear and the other odd words that you will/have encountered throughout this story have been bastardized from both Scottish and Irish Gaelic. It's a beautiful and completely incomprehensible language that has a set of rules so weird that if you haven't been born listening to it it's insanely hard to learn. Therefore I took some of it and made rough translations. I was inspired to do this from three things: how weird and different the language itself is; the proximity of that language to the supposed location of Avalon itself in British/Arthurian lore; and how sexy David Boreanaz is when speaking in his Irish accent while playing Liam/Angelus.

**Inspiration for Parts of This Chapter** – I reread _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_ by Gregory Maguire after he published _A Lion Among Men_, the third in the series, and if you have not read these books yet, I highly advise it. I haven't taken direct inspiration from it, but a large part of that original novel is a meditation, if you will, on the nature of good and evil, and how they originate and the delineation of the two. That debate is very large in philosophical and metaphysical circles, both fields that I love to study in, so some of that has crept into here.

**Pimpage** – I cannot stress enough that philosophy is a wonderful field to pursue for yourself to stimulate thinking and questions on the nature of Life and Humanity. In _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_'s academic field, there are many books published on the subject, as well as internet archives and paper studies. Look this up on Google or your preferred search engine – I guarantee that you will walk away with something to think about, at the very least.

Also, in case anyone hasn't figured this out yet, I am a huge fan of P!nk or Pink, whatever. I first got started with _M!ssundaztood_, and then went back and listened to _Can't Take Me Home_, and _Try This_. _I'm Not Dead_ has been her most fantastic album to date, I believe, and I think that it should appeal to many different people. However, her newest album, _Funhouse_, just came out. I already have it, and I must say that it is a wonderful album, just about as good as _I'm Not Dead_. "So What," her first single, has already become a smash hit all over the world. Standouts from the album include "Sober" and "Crystal Ball" among others. "Ave Mary A" is in my opinion her best song to date. I highly recommend this album to all of Pink's fans and also to just about everyone else.

**Tribute** – I dedicate this to my reviewers, first off (you guys are the reason why I write). Also, this is dedicated to the cast of _Buffy_ and _Angel_ – no matter how much of a genius Joss Whedon is, and how much he has brought to our world by introducing these shows, a director is nothing without his actors. David Boreanaz is a fabulous character actor, and most people don't know that he did a _huge_ amount of Angelus' lines on improv: once Whedon and Co. realized how much of a natural character actor he was, they just let him run with it. Nicholas Brendon played our favorite Xander and managed to make him believable, likeable, and understandable even at his most petty and angry moments.

And all the other actors, who did amazing jobs – thank you, so much.

**Reviewer Responses** – If you didn't review, I'd advise skipping over this section.

**Kage Mirai** – Thanks for all the faithful reviews. I'm sorry that I've left a gap in the updates again but here's your next part, even longer than the part before it. I hope you enjoy.

**Roswell26** – Thanks! Here's the next bit.

**Dark-Sky-of-Avalon** – I'm glad you thought it was worth the wait, and I hope you enjoy this one. It was really hard to write because there's just so much damn information in there! Gah! But this is the end of the huge history lesson, so from here on in the chapters should be a bit smaller but should be coming out quicker.

**Stealth** – Thanks!

**Emeralden Rapley** – I can't give away whether Xander stays good or not because that would ruin the first part of this saga, so there you go. Drusilla is definitely going to be sticking around, though, so don't worry about that! I don't know how much of this I could ever adapt into one of my original fictions but it's definitely worth thinking about.

**Jimmny Cricket** – I appreciate the honesty. The big thing for me with Xander is that he always did have a potential for darkness in him – what led him to lie to Buffy about Angel at the end of season two? Ultimately it can be argued that he knew she'd be killed if she tried to stall, but how much of that decision was pure teenage jealousy and venom? What I'm going to explore in this story is the fine line that he walks through the entire series from light and dark.

**Bored is my Favorite Word** – Thanks for the praise! Here's the next part!

**Failing Dreams** – Here's the next part.

**Unkown P3** – Thank you so much for lifting my day up with your review. Sorry I made you wait this long for the next part, but here it is!

**Nawie** – Thanks for taking the time to review. I do try to preplan these chapters, so they take longer. Especially these last two…sigh. They're life-devouring, but definitely worth it.

**Scoubilouy** – Here it is! And good luck with your dog! And props that you could read this whole thing in one sitting!

**Carmodee Star** – Thanks for your review and I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long!

**Isabella Skye** – Here is the next part!

**Note on the Title of this Chapter:** Hecate (also spelled Hekate) is one of the most ancient of Greek goddesses. She is a mystery; transcendant from the Olympians and also more powerful than a Titan, Hecate is the ultimate goddess. She is the embodiment of the Wiccan Goddess and is often considered the Queen of Witches. Her prominence in the witchcraft myths and facts was so strong that she is the Queen of the Weird Sisters in Shakespeare's immortal "Macbeth." She is the triple goddess, with three faces -- one of youth, one of mother, one of crone. She is the guardian of the crossroads and is present when you must choose your own path. She is out of the hands of the Fates and is one of the few gods who can cross between Olympus, the human realm and the Underworld.

I chose her because she is the Queen of Witches, because she is the Goddess of crossroads, and so she is imminent in all parts of this chapter and indeed the next.

**And so, without further ado, let me present this old line from our favorite campy season one episodes:**

_In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness – she is the Slayer…_

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer:_

the Passion of Angels and Demons

_Chapter XIX, Part II_

Hecate

_No one mourns the wicked!_

_No one cries "They won't return!"_

_No one lays a lily on their grave…_

_And goodness knows, the wicked's lives are lonely_

_Goodness knows, the wicked die alone…_

"_Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?"_

"No One Mourns the Wicked" (From _Wicked_; written by Stephen Schwartz)

"_Surely there is a handful of nursery märchen that start, 'Once in the middle of a forest lived an old witch' or 'The devil was out walking one day and met a child…'_

"_To the grim poor there need be no _pour quoi_ tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her—is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?"_

—From _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_ by Gregory Maguire

**XIV. **_**The Witch Child**_

Xander, as he came to be called, served as the final wedge to Jessica and Tony's marriage, for it was clear from a very early age that Xander was not Tony's child. Xander did bear some resemblance to Jessica, but at his early age, the boy was clearly the child of the Stoírm – not that Jessica or Tony knew that. Tony simply maintained deep down that Jessica had whored herself around during the dark times that neither of them spoke of, while Jessica simply fell to silence and alcoholism. Though she did not consciously remember the dream the Stoírm sent to her, she still carried a sense of guilt, of shame, just as with Father Thomas, though she did not truly remember that either.

It was a very strained childhood, for Xander was by necessity kept away from other children, for the most part. He was…eerie, to behold. His skin was pale as snow, hair darker than ebony, lips red as blood. He was formed to a sort of childlike perfection that instead of alluring was off-putting. He was tall for his age, statuesque. His eyes were nearly black, and they could pierce through you with a glare. He was a very pre-possessed child, precocious not in smarts but in attitude. He held himself as an adult, as a very regal adult, and regarded the world with a sense of scorn that he could not explain even to himself. How much conscious control over his burgeoning powers at his youngest we do not know.

Jessica and Tony lost the larger house they had gained in Tony's promotion, for they were spending large amounts of money on child therapists in an effort to bring Xander out of his shell – to no effect, however. Jessica fell more and more into drinking, and Tony became much more inclined to follow her. All three Harrises avoided each other, and it would have perhaps gone on like this for much longer had we not intervened when Xander was seven years old.

The Harris family refers to this incident in their minds merely as 'the incident.' Tony's cousin, Jack Allan, had come to visit as part of his therapy. His therapist had suggested reconnecting with family – Jack was fresh off of parole. He was a thief, a liar, and a molester, though the Harris family didn't know that much, they just knew that he'd gotten in trouble with the law. Tony, looking forward to escaping his increasing family troubles by spending time with a fellow male Harris relative, had welcomed the visit with open arms.

Xander and Jessica, however, were much more reticent. Both possessed of intuitive powers, however repressed or latent or strong as they may or may not have been at the time, both were aware that having this particular member of the family in the house was not the best idea. It could not be helped, however, because Xander had been suspended from school for fighting, and so was forced to stay home. Jessica had had to take a job in order to help pay the bills, so there was no one home but Jack and Xander…

I refuse to go into details here of what occurred, but I see by your expressions that you gathered the rest. I must warn you that Xander himself has no memory of this, so you may at least comfort yourselves that he couldn't have told you even if he had wanted to. In any case, Jack did not manage to finish his intentions. The increasing flashes of rage that Xander had been exhibiting the months before his suspension, the powers that were growing even faster than Xander himself was…Things of this nature have a tendency to come to a head, and the trauma of what his…relative attempted…Xander snapped, and unleashed a torrent of power that destroyed half the woods behind his house and utterly incinerated Jack where he stood.

It was concluded that Jack Allan had run away from the Harris home to escape his parole and in an effort to avoid jail. Both the Harrises refused to help the police look for him. They could guess, in light of the record that had been made available to them after the incident, what Jack had been attempting, and were once again united. Tony seemed to have finally accepted Xander as his, at least in some small way, and that united the two. They determined to find Xander help through less obvious outlets…and that is where I and some very important players come into the story.

**XV. **_**The Gathering**_

My name is Marie-Claire Christiene, and I have been the Lady of the Lake since I turned fifteen years old. I was only twenty-five when this all occurred, and…naïve…I believe that now. But in any case, I had been the Lady for ten years, during a time of peace on Avalon. Avalon, I feel, has become slightly detached from reality – it is the insulation that may have allowed these events to come to pass. In any case, I had never had to deal with an actual emergency before, and as I've said, I was quite young. But the ripple of power that Xander unleashed, more than a thousand times stronger than that which originated in Jessica in the chapel those years ago, finally convinced us that we must travel to Sunnydale, California, and see what was happening. I left the Lord of the Isle, who was busy installing my counterpart, Mathu, in charge and made haste toward the Hellmouth.

Upon arrival I was greeted by an ally of Avalon, whose name was Tomas Calendar – or at least that is the name that I knew him by. His traditional Gypsy name he kept hidden, as is their way. This part of the story is a grief-filled tale, for you knew this man, and you know his niece, Jenny. They are…were both part of the Kalderash tribe, the tribe of Gypsies who cursed your Angelus with his soul all those years ago. The Gypsy magic users are notorious for their grudges, their service to vengeance, and their delivery of their curses. Something was soon to happen in the future that would affect Angel's life forever, something that would drive the tortured vampire to seek redemption. This lessening of his pain was to be avoided at all costs, so the Elder Lady of the Kalderash decreed that Jenny should move to watch over the Hellmouth, where Angelus would eventually stay.

If you think that their vengeance was unfair, Slayer, ask Angelus what actually happened – how many died for his appetite. He and his Sire, Darla, raped and tortured the princess of the tribe over and over until the girl died, broken, and upon delivery of her body, Angelus thought it great fun to hunt down the girl's immediate family and beat them to death in the presence of their daughter's corpse. After the curse was instilled, Darla, Spike and Drusilla travelled to the Kalderash camp and attempted to have the curse removed. When they were unsuccessful, Darla laid waste to half the camp in her rage. I assure you, the curse was well-deserved.

In any case, as with all groups of major magic users, Avalon acts as a sort of police force, so that any one group or coven does not abuse their sacred power by attempting to use it to force their will over groups of humans, or impact humanity in any great way. It is our belief that magic must not interfere in the will of humanity in any great way, or we will have committed nothing else but psychic slavery or rape. Any Wiccan found guilty of casting a love spell on a specific individual is stripped of any and all power and cast out of our society, with no exception.

The Kalderash were no exception, and so they sent Jenny to us that we might train her in using her powers. When we sent her back, it was with the understanding that Jenny would be our emissary to the Kalderash. Therefore, when we heard that the Kalderash would also be in Sunnydale, we sought them out for aid. It was me, Tomas and Jenny who entered into the Harris household years ago, we who first met Xander, and we who first suspected what he was.

**XVI. **_**The Witch Child (Continued)**_

The Avalon coven culls its students from the most powerfully talented, and we are used to having to deal with parents who may be…unsympathetic with their child's needs. We present ourselves as a boarding school with interests in children of unique characteristics, a non-profit organization. It was decided that the best way to broach this…unusual situation was with the usual approach – by sending the Harris house an advertisement of our establishment. Of, course, the Lady of the Lake rarely ventures out of Avalon, but this was hardly a normal case.

Now, understand that during this first meeting that we still had no inkling exactly who Alexander Harris _was_; Avalon had lost track of the Bënnu line over the centuries, and the threat of the Stoírm had faded to a distant memory on the peaceful isle. All that we knew was that an extremely powerful magical force had risen in Sunnydale, linked somehow to this family. We knew that it was potentially dangerous – from the death of Father Thomas, for instance – but we did not know what the implications of the awakening magic in this family line could mean for the world.

So, we had nothing to truly expect when we pulled into that quiet street that fateful day. I remember it so well – the smells, the sounds, the sights…and the feeling of pure power that crawled through my veins like broken glass. I knew at once that it was my most important mission to convince Alexander's parents to allow us to take him to Avalon. We set into the house to do just that.

"_So, the place looks nice!" Jessica Harris says, too loudly, too brightly. She sounds as if she is trying to break the stony silence that has settled as soon as Tony and Tomas laid eyes on each other. Jenny had chosen a creaky rocking chair near a window, farther back from myself, who had taken point on the chair closest to the Harrises. Tomas is standing in a corner, watching the proceedings. We make the both of them uncomfortable, I understand. Jessica has more than an inkling of who we are, but magic makes her uncomfortable. There is a story there, I sense, but do not understand._

"_Yeah, nice enough to cost whatever the rest of the fuckin' shrinks have cost," Tony grumbles quietly. "You never actually explained in your letter how you found out about Xander," he continues aloud, ignoring the glares that Jessica is shooting him frantically from his other side. "What do you want with him anyway?" His aura washes over me like oil, and it is an uncomfortable experience. I sense great pain in him, a happiness that he once had but has been washed away. Opening myself to this aura is not a good idea, however; once again I am assailed with that horrible feeling of…sensation, of power that emanates from upstairs. I close the connection._

"_We have received recommendations from Xander's elementary school," I say instead, lying. "Alexander appears a perfect candidate for our program — and, if money is an object, you should know that we are a non-profit organization dedicated to the education of special children. This won't cost you a cent, should you agree." I fight to keep my tone smooth and even; I must sound like a teacher, like a counselor. Absolute care must be taken here, for if I do not convince the parents, I will not be able to complete my mission, which is unacceptable._

"_Non-profit?" Tony asks with a sneer, clearly thinking of something recent. "What, you some kinda pedo shit?"_

_I can feel my own shock and disgust appearing on my face at the man's crude words, at the horrifying meaning behind them. I had not been prepped to deal with an accusation like this, and for once I am speechless. The realm of the God and the Goddess deals with all forms of love, especially physical love, with utmost respect and strict laws. To imply that any who followed the Old Religion would assault a child in such a way, a violation of trust and of our ways of life, is anathema to me and everything I stand for. I must take a moment to compose myself. Tomas' lip curls to the point that it might have been hurting his face, and opens his mouth to blast the man. This proves unnecessary; at the question, Jessica Harris turns and soundly punches her husband in the back of the head._

"_What the fuck, woman?" he demands with a small cry of pain. I feel my estimation of the woman raise another few notches._

"_Shut up, Tone – we need this," she whispered, glaring at him with a fierce anger. I can sense a turmoil brewing behind that anger and I know that Jessica is more than she appears – perhaps the cause of the disturbance in the church eight years ago? Before I can do more than speculate, a voice sounds, making me jump in surprise. I was so focused on my own thoughts and on blocking out the unpleasant aura contained in the house I hadn't heard anyone come down the stairs._

"_Mom?"_

_Everyone in the living room freezes and we turn as one to regard the small figure by the stairs. I had to force myself to not recoil._

_The boy looks nothing like either one of his parents, save perhaps a resemblance to Jessica. There is something alien, different…__demonic__, something regal and angry and ancient and new all at once. The boy is pale as snow with unnaturally red lips, like the vampires of common mythology. His hair is ebony dark. He holds himself with an uncanny grace, a poise that belies both his age and his appearance. It is eerie – but his eyes…they are a strange dark color, with a darkness in their depths that burns with some smoldering power. They are doll's eyes and make my skin crawl._

"_Xander, honey, what are you doing down here?" Jessica asks quietly. She isn't quite looking at her son – __she's _afraid_ of him__, I realize, shocked…but not too shocked. The boy's abnormal nature was apparent even from spending one minute in the room with him. The boy rubs his head with a grimace of pain, and says "My head is hurting again."_

_I try then to penetrate that mind while its defenses are down, and have to fight back a yelp of pain. It's like encountering a running current, like touching a live wire. Lightning shields his consciousness better than any spell or telepathic ability; I haven't the fortitude or desire to try again. _I can't penetrate his mind_. I shoot the thought into Jenny and Tomas' minds. I can feel their confusion, so I elaborate: _There is some kind of force field, like an electric current, around his mind. It hurts when you try to read him_._

The High Priestess of the Holy Isle can't read the thoughts of a seven year old boy?_ Jenny can't help but think while I linger in her mind, and I fight down the disappointment in myself…and the fear. It is uncanny that this boy should be able to defend his own mind so, and yet I feel that he is not aware that he _is_ shielding his mind from telepathic invasion – more like it is his own body's natural defenses, whatever they may be. No matter the pain, however, I have been able to get a brush of his aura, and it is not what I am expecting. Yes, the darkness is there. But I sense that it isn't only darkness in the boy's eyes, for underneath the almost alien coldness in Xander's gaze, there is a sweet light and a childish innocence and naïveté still struggling to the surface. I feel a swell of pity._

"_Who are they?" the boy asks presently, pointing at us. He goes towards his mother, instinctively looking for comfort._

"_They're here to talk to us about a school," Mrs. Harris says gently, but still not quite looking Xander in the eye. I could feel a surge of happiness in Xander; his mother's avoidance tactics were all too obvious, and the way that she turned away from his touch was apparent. Clearly the boy had picked up on it, and for longer than he should have._

"_I already go to school," he says quietly, his voice somehow managing a mix of confusion, hurt, and surly anger all at once._

"_Well, this is a different school," Tony Harris snaps, not even trying to be subtle about not looking at his only son._

"_So now you're trying to send me __away__?" Xander snarls back, his eyes lighting up with the anger of an animal who has been hurt and is ready to lash back. "I didn't do anything wrong!"_

"_It's not like that, Alexander," I try to explain in my most genteel voice._

"_I didn't ask _you_," Xander cuts me off coldly, glaring._

"_Xander!" Jessica gasps, annoyed, and opens her mouth to continue when I decide that the best strategy now would be to perhaps grab the dragon by the horns, so to speak._

"_It would perhaps be better if we were permitted to speak to Xander alone," I suggest, using my voice of power, of command that I must use while deliberating on affairs of the Isle. The tone of my voice brooks absolutely no argument, and I can see Xander's surprise that his parents listen to me so regularly. I turn to face him, my posture saying "I too know things that you do not. I am not what you think I am." Xander glances back at me, thinking things through._

"_Who are you?" he asks finally, some of the icy regality leaking from his demeanor. He looks a little scared, a little confused as he sags onto the couch. Looking closer, I am surprised to note that the dark of his eyes was lightening to a lovely chocolaty color. It's as if that which is so obviously _other_ in his gaze has backed away, leaving the little boy he appeared to be free to take control once more. I smile at him charmingly, and I see him bite back a smile of his own. I decide that I like _this_ Xander._

"_Xander, I'd like to take you to a place for special people, just like you," I say, appearing happy with the idea. He looks happy with it too._

"_I'm special?" Xander asks slowly, as if only now considering the idea. He smiles then, and it is like the Sun coming out after a day of angry rain; I've never seen such boundless happiness on one face. "I always _knew_ there was something different about me. That's what makes my mom so angry," he continues with the bluntness of a child. It seems that as more and more of his inner child is allowed to peek through, equal amounts of his strange…persona, so to speak, is dissolving away._

"_Yes – but you see, we can teach you about that. We can help you," I say, trying to reassure him. There is a strange, motherly feeling about me that emerges now, wanting to comfort the child. However, I am not as in charge of the situation as I first thought. Quick as children are quick, his brows snap together angrily and his entire face darkens with anger._

"Help_ me?" Xander asks scornfully, his eyes suddenly darkening. "I'm not a freak, you know! I'm a kid and I don't need any more of my mom's stupid shrinks!" It is at this moment that Xander's temper seems to flair in a curious way. As his voice rises, the sky darkens with angry black clouds. I freeze in shock as thunder booms in time with the boy's voice. His emotions are affecting the weather! What manner of being is locked within this child that could possibly affect this…godlike…I will not think it._

"_That's enough of that now," I say flatly. He has clearly never been disciplined before, out of fear. I call upon the Goddess, praying that his control over his powers is as clearly out of control as it seems. It is, thankfully, and with a few well-chosen incantations in my mind I am able to entreat the weather to return to its normal patterns…I try not to show how much of my energy the trick costs me. I must not show weakness to Xander now, who is staring at me in open-mouthed wonder._

"_How'd you do that?" he asks quietly, awe-struck...thankful, that someone has stopped it._

"_You'll know when you come with us," I say with a smirk. Here is the tricky part, I am aware – if I can bind Xander into a sort of contract, then we both know that there will be nothing that his parents can do to stop it from occurring. However, he must think that he made this decision on his own or the plans that are beginning to form in my head will never be brought to fruition, and I cannot allow that – not after what I've seen._

_After a painstakingly long moment, Xander smiles. It is not quite the sweet, happy smile of before, but one of equal light and dark. Xander is agreeing for his own reasons, but it is enough that I have him of his own free will. I pray that I will not regret abusing the fact that he is a child to accomplish this…contract, but I know that I cannot allow emotion or guilt to cloud the issue – I know what I must do…_

**XVII. **_**From Ancient Grudge Break to New Mutiny**_

I had planned to stay in Sunnydale for one week, during which I would appropriate the boy and take him to Avalon. Though the surge in power was obviously of unusual increment, at that period in time we still believed Alexander Harris to be a powerful Witch in need of training. Though the touch of demon's blood was apparent when I first met him, I still could do nothing but believe that he was perhaps half or quarter demon, descended from one of the more powerfully magical demonic bloodlines. I had not been trained, had not learned the other possibilities, for the story of Atlantis to me was just that: a story. I knew of the origins of Avalon, but I had never had the inclination to read the entire story in our archives for myself.

You must understand that all of the past events of which I have spoken happened _more_ than thousands of years ago; it was the common mindset of Avalon that our founder's story did not have large import to our lives. It is a mistake that has cost us, yes, but the peacefulness of the times had lulled us into a sense of complacency.

When Tony and Jessica Harris signed the form of temporary guardianship over to me, I still did not believe anything to be wrong. Tomas and Jenny were touring Sunnydale in an attempt to find that which had distressed their Elder, and I had one of my guards with me, out by the car. It was a very beautiful, sunny day – I remember the weather, particularly, for it helped to drop my guard. My mission had been accomplished, the Sun was shining, warm and beautiful, and a gentle breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass. I could almost feel myself transported back to Avalon, and had a strong desire to return home.

You understand why it was such a faux pas to drop my guard, no? Exactly: the _Tiocfaidh ár lá_, who were not particularly keen on allowing their prophesied Harbinger of Armageddon to go to train with a powerful good witch. I do not believe that they knew exactly who I was, else they might have gone about their attack in a more insidious manner…in any case, the one they had appointed the Guardian to watch over Alexander caught wind of what the boy's parents were signing and instantly alerted the rest of the group.

As soon as the document was signed, I was nearly pushed out of the door. I still can't exactly blame Jessica in particular for her haste; all she wanted was for her son to learn control, to fix what she perceived to be the problem so that they could perhaps have some semblance of a normal life. Whatever the matter, Alexander was waiting at the bottom of the staircase with a suitcase ready to be loaded into the car, and the document was in my pocket. The boy's school had already been called to say that Mr. Harris would be finishing out at least the semester at a special needs school, and there was no other business to take care of.

I led the boy out of the house and as soon as my feet hit the Earth I felt a flash of intuition, much like your girl here. I too threw up my strongest shield spell around myself and Alexander, and the Sleeping Spell blew past us and knocked out Tony and Jessica where they stood. I desperately threw out my consciousness to see my attackers, for their was more than one caster behind the spell. All but one were blocked to me, and the one that was not blocked was a consciousness so cold, so icy, that attempting to breach the defenses could suck the very marrow from your bones. I shielded myself in turn, and turned to see my guard on the ground, dead, a blade in her back.

I choked in horror at the casual murder of a dear friend – I had not seen death yet, so young myself, save for the passing of my predecessor, who faded into the Light of the Goddess in her sleep. This was something unnatural and horrible, and I choked back bile and tears as I saw six men, dressed head to toe in black, step from the surrounding bushes and trees. They were very highly trained; the five spread out in a V behind the man who took point, weapons drawn and Shield Spells already humming. The leader stopped five feet from me, and looked me in the eye.

He was very tall, at least six and a half feet, if not more. His skin was icy pale, and his hair a metallic platinum blonde, cut short. On a lean, well-muscled chest he wore a leather vest carved with arcane symbols of protection and death for his enemies. His legs were clad in black leather, with heavy boots. The ancient script continued on his leggings. He had a strange, three-pronged instrument hanging from a loop on his pants, but his hands were free. His expression said that besides magic he needed no weapon to kill me. It was his eyes that were horrifying, though; this man was a true human and had no demon blood in him, and yet they glowed an eerie, swirling garnet that recalled powerful demons. His eyes alone sent terror skittering down my spine. I swept Alexander behind me and he clutched my hand, though whether in fear or excitement I could not tell.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to make my voice strong.

"No one you need ever know," he said coldly, sneering. He had a deep voice that would have been hypnotic, even seductive, were it not toned with an arrogant sneer and a deep-seated violence. His aura washed over me like murderous ice. "Here are your options, Witch – leave the boy with us and run as fast as you can, or stay here and join your friend in death."

"What is the boy to you?" I asked, surprised. These men were not after me at all; did not even know who I was! It was Alexander they were after!

"Shut up!" he snarled, spittle spraying from his mouth. "There are no questions! Leave the boy with us or die like your worthless friend!" He spat on her body and snarled a curse to her spirit that I will not utter here. It was this, I think, more than anything, that roused me to action. I am a Frenchwoman, and I am more than aware that when angered, I act accordingly. My rage rose within me, but that rage was tempered with control. I allowed myself to know nothing but that when this was over, I would stand victorious over all of them.

"Xander, close your eyes and stay behind me," I commanded the boy. He did not protest; he did not hear me. He was staring with a fixed intensity at the man who was leading the attack. Their eyes met and Xander froze. The man ignored me and beckoned imperiously, and I was astounded when Xander's right foot took an involuntary step toward the man. Xander shook, slightly, and would not move his left foot.

"It is no matter, My Prince," the man said quietly, respect dripping from his voice. I stopped in shock. _Prince?!_ I thought. "You will come to us soon enough."

"Not if _I_ can help it," I snarled, and called upon the full might of the Goddess as I reached into the power of the Earth and released the spell. The Earth shook in rage as a great pit burst into being between me and the man, and from it great thorny vines shot into being everywhere. Before any of the group had time to react, three of its men had been entangled and screamed in pain as the thorns sliced through whatever magical protections they had placed around themselves. They screamed even louder when the vines retracted, dragging all three of them into the Earth and the pit closed with a resounding slam, leaving no trace that it had ever existed. The leader's face was frozen in shock, his angry red eyes wide.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded of me.

"I am the Lady of the Lake, Mistress of Avalon and High Priestess of the Moon Coven," I answered, regally indifferent. "And I say unto you that whoever you are, you should not have come here this day. Take another step and see what miseries the Goddess will unleash on you!" I had imagined many different responses to my dare – anger, fear, response to the taunting with an uncoordinated attack. What I received shocked me further.

"Avalon?" the man whispered. He was shaking – not in fear, no, in uncontrollable rage. "AVALON?!" he screamed. He spit again, cursed again. "You think _we_ are afraid of _you_?! Go then, when we are finished torturing you, and tell your accursed Isle to stop interfering in places that don't concern you, as you should have done since your accursed creator breathed your foul stench into existence!"

His curse hit me like a freight train; I flew backwards and crashed into the house. My shield absorbed much of the impact to my back, for which I was grateful: at the rate I was flying I would surely have been paralyzed had I struck the house full force. The sheer power behind his attack was stunning, and frightening. I knew how I had come to possess as much power as I had – the Lady of the Lake passes her power onto her successor and so on and so forth, an unending lineage of power that I could access in moments of great need. For this much power to be contained within one group would mean that that group would have to be nearly as old as Avalon itself.

_This might not be a fight that I can win alone_, I realized. Either way, I could _not_ let my terror overcome my reason. I had already managed to kill three, cutting their forces off by half. If I could manage to overcome two, then I would possibly be able to take the leader on one by one. I stood to say the spell, but then my heart sank as I understood that I had underestimated how many belonged to this group. Four more came at a run out of the woods behind the house, while another two jumped off the roof. In greater numbers, the rage that they felt at my identity, at who had sent me, would grant them more power. I was fighting for my life. They were fighting to eradicate that which they hated.

"Grab the Chosen One!" the leader screamed to his men. _No!_ I thought desperately, and lunged for Alexander. But it was too late; there were too many curses being hurled at me to count. I had one weapon that I could use, but there was no chance of my survival. I would have to merely kill as many of the bastards that I could while I could, and hope that Avalon would be able to investigate my demise to find out who these sons of bitches were. I reached into a pocket I had never had to reach into before and took out a black crystal.

"_Negato no qunam lunae, lessius para ebon regina et nostrus regino, alara fîatum!_" I yelled, and broke the crystal. The drain on my power was…I cannot describe it. My nose began to bleed and I collapsed for a moment, my head spinning with utter disorientation. I had to fight through it, though; I had been warned that were I ever in position to use this most desperate weapon, I needed to be able to fight through the nausea to either fight or run.

The crystal is known as La Encanta Mortÿo, or the Death of Enchantment. It is an ancient power that we do not know how it originated, save that with a simple spell and the breaking of the crystal, it was kill all magical powers with a mile of itself. Those magic users that it is used on can eventually gain their magic back, but it is a most desperate weapon. I was dizzy with the inability to use that sixth sense my magic provided. My world was less bright, less pure, and more confusing. However, I knew that this had been coming. My enemies did not, and their eyes were wide with horror, and they staggered this way and that without any direction.

I staggered toward my fallen friend and grabbed the large knife that hung from her waist. I…do not wish to tell of the fight that followed. The men, no matter how evil, cruel they may have been, were at such a disadvantage that I killed five before any of them managed to get their bearings. There were others…there was so much blood on my hands by the end of that day. In any case, they were all quite strong, and no matter how much of a surprise I had launched on them, there were still four standing, guarding the leader, by the time I was wrestled to my knees.

I screamed, struggled. I was forced to watch as they grabbed Alexander. The boy looked so _young_ then, so small and scared and helpless. The blood of the men carrying him washed onto him, making his pale skin look infinitely more macabre. They tried to be gentle, reinforcing the idea that there was something about this child that they regarded as infinitely precious, infinitely important. No matter how he cried and turned and twisted, inexorably they marched him to the leader. He knelt down to Alexander's level and gently as any father wiped the tears from the boy's face. There was no regal aura to the boy now, no freakish otherness. He was only a child, small, alone, and defenseless against this demonic, soulless wretch.

"Alexander," the man breathed. His entire face had changed from the sneering murderer of mere minutes before. How had time flown so fast? Now he looked awed, empowered by the presence of the boy before him. "My Prince – our Prince…so many years we have waited for you!" I struggled, trying to reach him, but I was viciously backhanded by one of my captors. "Alexander…you must do this thing, you must lead us in this," the leader pleaded, oblivious to us. His eyes were glowing with a snakelike intensity, boring into the boy's face, mesmerizing him. Alexander nodded softly, his eyes huge.

The leader reached into a soft pocket in his vest and withdrew a ceremonial athame, carved with evil symbols. This athame had not known the touch of true magic; it had been fed on blood, created to wield darkness and to kill, not to create. Alexander shrank from it. "Be not afraid…this most ancient of weapons is yours alone to wield." The leader held it out to him temptingly, and Alexander slowly reached for it. "Good.

"Now, kill her."

I froze, stunned. This was why I was still alive, then; to baptize Alexander in my blood, to lead him down the path of the men and whatever horrific schemes they held in their heads for the boy's future. Alexander took a halting step towards me, the blade raised. I could see that strangeness within him rise to the forefront. There was a hunger within him at the same time that there was horror. There was Light battling Dark within this boy, a desperate fight for his soul that I could only sense dimly was important to the entire world, to existence itself. Who was this boy?

My only chance was to convince him that this was wrong, that he had a choice. There was a potential for such light within him, I could tell. "Alexander, you have a choice in this," I said calmly, not letting anything betray my calm. "You can feel it within you, feel the light. You know this is wrong. You know what the importance of life is."

"SILENCE!" the leader roared, his eyes popping. I was backhanded again, and Alexander flinched as I moaned in pain. There was a whirlwind going on behind the boy's eyes, the battle within him reaching fever pitch. "Xander, no," I whispered over and over again at the same time as the leader screamed "Do it! Do it! Feel it within you, feel it rising, fulfill your destiny!" The two mantras swirled around the boy's head and he screamed in rage and frustration.

The sky overhead decided the matter for us, for it echoed the scream.

Tornado-dark clouds swirled overhead in dizzying speed, appearing out of nowhere, as a heavy wind whipped icy-cold rain over us, drenching us in seconds. This I could not understand; what power could this boy have within him that he could overcome the effects of the crystal?

"He rises! HE RISES! _Tiocfaidh ár lá_!!!" the leader screamed, ecstasy on his face as thunder rolled around us. But Alexander had had enough; the athame clattered to the ground as he screamed and clutched his head, dropping to his knees. Thunder boomed loud as a shotgun over our heads and lightning streaked toward the ground, radiating through the ground and then shooting back up in four very specific spots. The four men it touched burned to death instantly, their heads still thrown up in devotion, unholy ecstasy on their face as they died.

The leader ran toward the prostrate boy, screaming in his mania. I reacted, throwing myself forward and slamming the back of my fist down on a very specific nerve ending on the back of the man's neck. He slumped forward, unconscious. I grabbed Xander and ran to the car, throwing the man into the trunk as quickly as possible, trying to ignore my protesting muscles at the heaviness of my captive. I then tenderly loaded my dead friend's body into the backseat, threw Xander's belongings into his seat, loaded the boy in, and streaked away from that cursed street as fast as I could.

The rain followed us, a match for the tears on the unconscious boy's face.

**XVIII. **_**Revelations and Interrogations**_

That night I stopped in a hotel in a small town about twenty miles north of Sunnydale. I checked into a ratty hotel where it seemed likely that…noise would not be discouraged by the oily little man at the front desk. I asked for a room with two beds. Onto one bed I deposited Xander, who was still asleep. The unconscious leader of the cult that had attacked us and dumped into a hard wooden chair and bound him magically, then cast another Sleeping Spell over his prone form that would keep him sedated. I cast the same spell over the boy, so that he would not wake up during what was sure to be a long night.

I contacted Avalon and called for the Lord of the Isle's ceremonies to be interrupted. That I would even demand this went against thousands of years of Avalon's history, and so they would know that it was horribly important, what I had to say. The Lord left Mathu in a cave on a Spiritual Journeying so that he could confer with me. After hearing a hurried account of my story, he absconded from the Isle with the Master and Mistress of the Guard, our most powerful warriors – these two that you see behind me, in the early years of their duty, in point of fact.

A powerful Wiccan has his own ways of travelling, which I will not betray here. So it was that at three o'clock the next morning there was a hard knock on the hotel door. Opening it, I felt instant relief, felt some of the previous day's horrors begin to melt away. The previous Lord – his name was Shiloh – was a wise and powerful man, and had been the Lord of Avalon since he was twenty-four. On the night that this occurred he had reached his seventieth year, and had lost none of his fire or vigor.

He was swathed in black robes of mourning and power combined, and his face was hard. He would not waste time with comforting me – and I did not want him to; this was far too important. He was carrying a heavy old tome with him that had been transcribed from the ancient, crumbling scrolls of our library. I did not recognize this one, for it was one of the very few that is kept under lock and key, so valuable that its secrets should never be divulged unless there were a situation like this one.

"Where is he?" he asked, his voice angrier than I had ever heard it. I directed him to our captive, but he brushed me aside and strode to the sleeping boy. "So, you _are_ back then…our ancient foe," he whispered, and I could feel my eyes widening with shock. The Lord truly knew what was going on, then – knew for sure what I had only begun to suspect about Alexander Harris. I was angry at not knowing, but also clinging to a childish urge to allow him to handle it. I was not sure then, in fact I am still not sure now, that I wanted to know whatever terrible knowledge could have spawned the man-thing that attacked us.

"He is over here," I said flatly, feigning ignorance and pointing to my captive. The Lord startled out of his reverie and gave me a very piercing look. I met his gaze head-on. No matter my misgivings, I had been chosen as the Lady of the Lake, and if I was to lead our great Coven during this time of turmoil, I had a right and a need to know what was going on and what I would have to do about it.

"Yes," he said after a moment, and I realized that I saw approval in his eyes. I let my ego be bolstered by that, if nothing else. "I assume that you have kept him unconscious?" I nodded tersely. "Very good…you should strengthen the spell for a moment," he advised the Guard. While they began to carry out his instruction, he turned to me. "Sit down," he said. I remember a sense of ancient sadness in his voice, a quiet sort of defeat in his eyes. I did as he asked without comment, and he seated himself across from me.

"My Lord, what in the name of the Holy One is going on?" I asked finally, after a moment.

"It is a sad thing that you do not know, an oversight that your Mistress committed," he said after a moment. Before I could rush to my Lady's defense, he sighed expansively. "And my name is Shiloh, Marie-Claire. You are the Lady of the Lake now, and unfortunately now more than ever you must act as such."

The chastisement stung, but it was nothing more than I needed. I _didn't_ know what was going on, and if I did not then most of my Coven did not, and that made this thing a weakness. I could not afford to be weak.

"I cannot blame my once-partner, however. It has been so _long_…years turn into decades, which turn into centuries, which turn into millennia and then eons and…longer than any human has a right to remember, I suppose. And of what we are about to speak tonight, we have grown complacent, had no reason to think of it. Perhaps she truly hoped it gone forever, as we all did…" He sounded so tired, as if this knowledge had lain across his shoulders heavy as Atlas' burden.

He straightened, as if irritated with his own weakness. With an old gesture and a whispered word, the door and windows made an odd squelching noise as they sealed themselves more solid than titanium. There was another whisper as he blocked any from eavesdropping on this conversation. I kept my silence during this strange ritual. Even the Rites of Passage from one Lady of the Lake to the next had not been conducted in this much secrecy.

"Now, you must understand that what I speak of tonight is an evil so old, so powerful, so bent on the destruction of all humankind that I fear even to speak of it aloud without these shielding spells lest it hear and come to us. It is a force from the primordial times of our Earth, only preceded by the First Evil – perhaps _created_ by the First Evil; we do not know, nor will we ever know. What matters is that it _exists_, and it is the greatest threat to humanity that may ever exist. It has been Avalon's sacred duty since the dawn of our existence to fight this evil in any incarnation it may try to force through the Void into our world…"

This was how he began his story – the story that you now know. For over an hour he spoke, telling me the story of Ferro and Atlantis and the creation of Avalon, though he spoke of things that I did not know – Rakia and Necrom, Pandora and the Elemental demon-kings. He traced for me Daniel Bënnu's bloodline throughout history – as far as we could follow it, at that point. He told me everything that he knew, and then he was silent, and drank water while I sat still and attempted to absorb everything of which he spoke.

"But, Shiloh…" I began hesitantly after a long silence. "I do not understand…this story is indeed horrible; terrifying, even. But what does this have to do with the Harris child? And the cult that attacked us, what of them? None of this makes sense!"

"It does make sense, in its own way, actually – what we need is this one last puzzle piece to finally see the full picture." He gestured toward their captive. "What I _am_ sure of, however, is that Jessica Harris, née Benew, gave birth to Alexander Harris: the last descendant of the Stoírm and Rakia's accursed union all those years ago."

"What?!" I gasped. "How could we not have known this? How could we not have stopped this?" I demanded after a moment. "If the Stoírm poses the danger that you say, how could we ever have become the merest instant complacent enough to _not_ watch its progeny and ensure that they posed no threat?"

He did not take offense at the impertinence of my questions; instead he agreed. "As I've said, Marie-Claire, it has been an oversight that we have been making for centuries now. It was the same reasoning that your predecessor made with you. What happened on Atlantis and the adventures that occurred subsequently from that happened so _long_ ago that we reasoned they surely had nothing to do with our future. We have become so arrogant of our powers that our own Lady of the Lake was nearly murdered by a rogue coven we know absolutely nothing about because of it!" I shuddered at the memory of the previous afternoon. "We have become so blind in our assuredness that _we_ alone are the most powerful of Wiccans that we merely assumed our Binding Spell would maintain throughout the ages! _This_ is the curse of power, Marie-Claire, and mark that you learn this lesson well – there is _no_ such thing as absolute power, and any creature on this Earth that appears to have it will in turn be corrupted by it by the curse of humanity."

His words rang through my head like a curse; I will always remember that admonishment and I have used it as a testimony to live my own life by to this day. Does not the old adage maintain that 'power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely?'

"But we have a chance _now_, to act as we must act to acquire that information which we shall need in order to decide what must be done about the Harris child – and indeed what threat he may pose should he fall out of our hands.

"Henry," he said coldly, before I could say a word, to the lead male guard. "Wake our guest, please – oh, and ensure that you stop _any_ suicide attempts. We cannot allow this chance at vital information to slip through our fingers." He said this last part so off-handedly that it gave me pause. Was not all life valuable? Were we not taught to genuflect to God and Goddess before we were forced to take said life? But then I thought of my battle yesterday. No such prayers had passed my lips for my victims in that desperate fight, had they? I was filled with doubt and confusion. I was coming face to face with the consequences of youthful idealism, you understand, and I was learning that growing up was a colder, more heartless process than I had previously envisioned.

The man moaned as he started to come around, the multiple spells wearing on his mind and body. He stretched uncomfortably as the ropes chafed at his skin. It took a few moments, a few blinks of those unnerving jeweled eyes before he seemed to get a sense of where he was…and who he was with. He lifted his demonic eyes and glared with pure venomous hatred at me and Shiloh. I tried very hard to not let my intimidation show on my face. Aside from physical features, just the feel of his aura, the feel of _him_, was enough to make me want to recoil and wretch in a corner. Shiloh, on the other hand, refused to be cowed.

"We have a few questions for you," he said flatly. "Answer us truthfully and your death will be quick and painless. Lie or waste our time, or attempt to escape, and you will be sealed in the Death Oak for the rest of your life." The man attempted to hide his blanch. I had to, as well. The Death Oak is the most grievous, brutal of all Druidic punishments. The prisoner is put into a sort of paralysis where all that can be moved is eyes and mind. It is extremely uncomfortable. However, after this, they are dragged to the Cursed Grove, and taken to one of the oak trees there – oak being the most powerful of natural prisons. The tree is enchanted to open to its very heart, and there the prisoner is held for the rest of their lives. Because of the sap of the tree and the energy it draws from the earth, it is not unheard of for prisoners to still be alive after forty years before finally dying.

The man had more mettle, apparently, for after a moment he spat "I will betray nothing, Druid."

"Not even for the life of this one?" Shiloh asked slyly. I turned, stunned, to see one of the guards suddenly standing over Xander's sleeping form, a long, sharp, three-pronged dagger clutched aloft in his hand. Our prisoner yelled, an ejaculation of terror, but my sharp gasp also echoed through the room.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" I demanded, starting towards the guard. A twitch of fingers from Shiloh and I could not move, could not speak. I was bound to the spot on the floor where I stood, helpless to hinder what was happening.

"So, I see there is a form of collateral, yes?" Shiloh asked coldly. The old man strode over to the prisoner, who was straining desperately against his magical bonds. He grabbed the man by the hand and forced his head back, the back of his neck resting against the chair, forcing his throat to constrict. "You will tell me everything I want to know or I will kill the whelp you seem to have so much energy focused upon."

"You would not hurt an innocent, Wiccan!" the man gasped, shocked. His face was starting to turn purple. "It is forbidden!"

"You can feel the dark magic emanating from the boy just as I can. If only part of him is innocent, if the part of him that is…not so innocent is the part that drove the death of one of my coven and the attempted murder of the Lady of the Lake, I'm sure that no one on Avalon would protest his death," Shiloh responded calmly. Despite his unflappable expression his eyes blazed fire and death. I stood horrified, unable to move.

"Ask your questions," the man mumbled after an eternity, sobbing as Shiloh released him and he could breathe again.

"For every wrong answer, you will be hurt," Shiloh said coldly. Henry, the guard standing over the prisoner, extracted from a small pouch a very small knife that was glistening with potion. It was similar to the mixture called Hell-Fire; every time it comes into contact with blood it administers a burning sensation. It is an ancient weapon of torture, and one that I had never thought to see in my entire life.

I will not tell you of the torture that was inflicted on the man, no matter how evil he was. He was still human, and I still do not like to think of it. It is my firm belief that it could have been handled differently. However, we were all afraid, and we had a right to be…as it turns out…however, I will simply tell you, as close as I can, the man's words, his story, and what impact they had on this narrative.

**XIX. **_**Tiocfaidh ár lá**_

_We are an order as old as time, as old as your accursed coven. We were created by the Old Ones themselves and stand as guardians of their Earth until we can bring about that great Armageddon that is their plan and reign underneath them as overlords, as we have been promised. We do not fear pain for we cannot feel it. We have the strength of our sublime masters, and the magicks of the hellish core of the Earth at our disposal. We are power, and power is what we serve._

_It is in the nature of humanity to be beasts, neither good nor evil, and it was through the evil of goodness that we were cursed with conscience and with guilt, with weak emotions that make us even more foul than those dumb beasts we kill for food. Somehow this ability to think and feel has led us to an arrogance that we are masters of the Earth, and so we destroy it as we see fit. We rose up against our masters, the Old Ones, the Ones who had been for so long, longer than any can remember, and we deposed them through foul magic that stole from our very masters. We banished them from their own realm._

_We were created by the Elementals to serve them. They lifted us from the dull mediocrity of our lives and showed us the true nature of power. They showed us that which we must obey, and so we pass it on to those who understand that there is no good and evil – only power, and those too weak and stupid to seek it. We have collected magicks and power beyond the dreams of most humans who think themselves mighty as they lead the world in the nuclear age. These humans are deluded fools, who have convinced themselves that because they have a weapon that they cannot control, that can only destroy and do nothing else, they are more powerful and can sleep in peace at night._

_For years our only purpose was to collect power, to make ourselves a mighty army. There was naught else that we could do. We kidnapped the witches that would have become tools of you our oldest enemy and drained them of the power that they were not worthy of. We worked diligently and were at last seen to have done what we must do to be trusted by our masters. They stole us from our bodies in an extraordinary feeling of exhilaration beyond the wildest dreams of mere mortals, and showed us that which we must do._

_A prophesy was given to us, the prophesy of the Key, the Doorway, the foretold vessel that would carry the incarnation of our sublime master, the Harbinger of Armageddon. We would have to interfere, in specific points, in order to accomplish this. Our great mother of old, Pandora, had allowed our masters to use her body for their visions, for the breeding plan that must be carried out to continue their great plan._

_And so we hid ourselves from the world, from Avalon, that bastardized outpost of the thrice-curst traitor-fool Ferro, hidden for him by the faeries, those impure, imperfect wastes of spirit, of Ether. We did nothing that could draw attention to ourselves, nothing that could give us away. We knew that the seekers of Avalon would be searching for outbursts of magic so should we ever have to use it we stored it in our weapons that were cloaked in spells that hid their magical nature from any scrying spell._

_This is the way it was for scores of years, until we were contacted by our masters._

**XX. **_**Pendragon**_

_A great King had risen to power, one who was a burning source of the foulness of light that had pervaded the world. We were told to watch and wait until our moment could come where we could interfere, which would set into motion our great plan, the first moment that would ripple across the waters of time until hundreds of years later, we would act on those ripples that would become a tidal wave that would crash at the gates of Armageddon._

_His name was Arthur Pendragon._

_This was the era of magic, the Dark Ages, as the humans have come to know it. Avalon had grown rich in their power and so had influenced the thrones of their homeland, which was at that time the most powerful of countries. All kings at that time had the blessings of Avalon, because if they attempted rule without it the native Britons would not follow their Anglo-Saxon betters. Normally the politics of men were of little interest to our order, but at this moment of time was Avalon's greatest weakness, through their greatest arrogance. The Blood of Avalon would need to run strong in the one who was prophesied to come forth, and so we waited until our great plans could be set in motion._

_Many prophesies had been put forth about the Pendragon, the mystical line of Kings which would propel Britain to its greatest era of Light, wherein the foulness of the God and Goddess would balance each other and the stench of justice would cloak the land. When Uther Pendragon was born, Avalon launched itself into action. The Lord of the Aisle took the name of Merlin, a great enchanter, and he watched and was watchful. Uther Pendragon was named the King's successor, fulfilling the prophesy._

_As Merlin positioned himself to be an advisor to the new King, we also launched into action. A natural born witch named Igraine had been born and was fated to be loved by the Pendragon. At the time she was married to a Welsh lord, Gorlois, a man of little importance. History remembers him as the father of one of the greatest of all witches, Morgan le Fay, but in this history was lied to. The shadows of our Order were dark, and in concealing magicks our High Priest laid with Igraine, disguised as her husband._

_When Igraine and Uther Pendragon first laid fateful eyes on each other, Igraine was in London for the installment of the new High King with her husband, and her daughter Morgan (also called Morgana and Morgaine) at home. Morgan had been deemed unfit to travel to London for her strangeness – her flashes of foresight, her ability to manipulate the elements without control. A natural witch and also part of a demonic order – she was gifted with great power. One of our brothers, gifted at the skill of manipulation, stayed with Morgan whilst her mother and her mother's husband were gone. She was convinced of her love of mother and father, and of her own power. He secretly taught her control, and kept her away from Avalon._

_History tells the next part of the story – that Uther and Igraine were cursed with the hand of love when they saw each other, and that Gorlois cursed the new king and stole his wife back to his great stronghold, there to challenge Uther. Uther, a brave and arrogant man, would not have won the battle there were it not for Merlin's magic. He enchanted Uther's sword to break the metal of weaker swords, a sword of kings. After Gorlois had been killed, Uther was swathed in cloaking magic and sent for his bedtime thrills with Igraine._

_And, watching this, realizing what had happened, Morgan developed a deep hatred for Uther Pendragon, and saw that the Pendragon line was evil, and brought about a perceived light that was instead dark. When her mother became pregnant from her night with her new husband (for she had been given as chattel to Uther Pendragon, who married her the next week and installed her as High Queen), Morgan swore that she would set herself against the dragon Arthur with all her might, and would do what she must to bring the natural order back to the world._

_Wondrous, really, how the roads of good intentions lead to disaster at every turn._

_So, Morgan began on her road to infamy, she who was called Morgan le Fey behind her mother's back, as everyone believed her strangeness a curse of the faerie folk, for back then everything wrong was blamed on the faeries. Eventually the blame shifted to magic in general, and the witch hunts would begin. People are sheep, especially in the face of false religion, where they will do whatever they are told to do. They do not realize that the Old Ones are the true power._

**XXI. **_**Merlin and the Young Dragon**_

_Merlin gained fame over the years as well, as he was called the Merlin of Britain, the great enchanter, gifted by God and by England as the great defender of their land, the master of magic. They did not realize that he was a pawn of Avalon's political games. Arthur grew brave and strong under Merlin's care, as Merlin took him away from his parents that he might teach Arthur himself. You know the story – Merlin stuck Uther's magic sword in the damn stone and set it so that only Arthur could pull it out. Pleasure business sleight of hand, but it impressed the sheep of Britain. Arthur was revealed as the King after Uther's death, and so the young boy was made King and Merlin was given guardianship over him._

_Avalon now had control of the throne, as opposed to the Bishops and Popes._

_Arthur made laws on Merlin's advice, propagating peace and love and justice throughout his empire. He made the Code of Chivalry, installed knights. It was a wretched time where even revenge was frowned upon by our great king. Everyone was forced to be happy in this enforced peace, they did not realize what a perversion of natural chaos it was. It was stale, this peace, it was forced. Avalon had played their hand, the Lady of the Lake emerging from her watery womb to hand Arthur the enchanted weapon Excalibur._

_Since Avalon was finished, it was our turn to start the moving of our Queen in the ancient chess game that Avalon was too stupid, blind and arrogant to realize they were playing._

**XXII. **_**Morgan and Mordred**_

_Morgan le Fey had travelled the length of Britain, searching the old ways and the Old Ones out. She spent time in Avalon, learning their ways. She spent time with her old advisor, our priest, and learned the arts. She vanished for many years, until Arthur was twenty and she twenty-five. During this time her bitterness against Pendragon, against Avalon's forcible takeover of her homeland and the cursed enforced peace of Camelot, as Arthur's kingdom came to be known._

_She revealed herself on Samhain, the Witches' New Year, when her power would be strongest, appearing as a raven who shapeshifted to her true form – again, a simple trick that immediately won over the court. Merlin was suspicious, but he had also started to age, and so could not sense her plans or intention. Morgan told her brother that she had come to be reunited with him, to aid him. Arthur, the trusting fool, swathed in the blind goodness of Avalon, instantly accepted her to his court._

_For a year and a day Morgan le Fey stayed at Camelot. She ingratiated herself into her brother's life, and found herself given command at court. She found herself wavering. Was not her half-brother innocent against the malice of Avalon? We found it necessary to give her a Scrying Stone, that she might contact us when her strength wavered. We cursed ourselves that we had given her freedom, for she had been exposed to the corruption of goodness as well, and we knew that when the day was done she would have to be eliminated, lest she become a threat as well._

_And so it was that Morgan was again filled with resolve. She moved her plans into action, and sought out Guinevere, the legendary beauty of Britain. She paraded her before Arthur's court, and Arthur and all of his men fell madly in love with her. Guinevere had been raised a Christian lady, and so could not think for herself. Though she was in love with Lancelot, she gave her hand to Arthur in order to honor God._

_At the start of the Spring Equinox, when fertility was high, she tricked Arthur into her bed. Though this had been her plan, it exposed the weakness in her soul, and so she kept the secret from Arthur and mysteriously vanished. We dispatched two of our order to seek her out, and another crept into Camelot and cursed Guinevere with infertility. Merlin did not sense us, and so we knew that Avalon was no longer a threat to us._

_When we found Morgan, she killed both members of our order and fled. She intended to seek asylum in Avalon, but our High Priest found her again and warned her that should she go there she would be shut up in the Great Oak for her crimes, for it was not the nature of goodness to understand the thinking of chaos. Morgan cursed him for what we had forced her to do, but it was she who made her own choice. She surrendered her baby with a curse and fled to Avalon, telling them that she had decided to come back to escape a painful world. She was accepted, as far as we can tell, by the trusting fools._

_The baby was named Mordred. History can tell you the rest – how Lancelot was cast with a simple love spell that convinced him to overcome his inhibitions and fuck the stupid bitch, and how Mordred was sent to his father's kingdom. Because the boy had grown up with hatred for his father and for Camelot, that we had taught him the truth of, he told his father the nature of his birth. Morgan le Fey was called an evil sorceress, and such began the rumors of her dark nature._

_Nimue, a witch we had enchanted, enticed Merlin to his death, finally, and Mordred revealed to Camelot how their beloved Arthur had been made cuckold by his best friend and whorish wife. The entire kingdom rallied against Guinevere and Lancelot, and Lancelot had to kill his friends in order to save his woman from burning at the stake – sealing his place in the minds of people the reputation of evil. It was what we had been waiting for. Mordred fulfilled prophesy and took over Camelot. Arthur attempted to fight him._

_However, it was Morgan who proved that goodness will overcome the stupid at the end. She arrived at the final battle and just as Mordred was due to strike the killing blow she enchanted Arthur's arm to lift Excalibur one last time. Her magicks could not heal Arthur due to the poison we had enchanted Mordred's blade with, and so she stayed with her half-brother as he died. She is the one who returned Excalibur to the waters, so that we could not touch it. She vanished to Avalon with Arthur. Fantasy tells he will return, but he is surely dead._

_Avalon had lost their greatest lord of the isle, and Morgan le Fey had become Lady of the Lake. It was she who withdrew Avalon from the world, for in their hope to install peace they had allowed us our greatest chance to throw open the door and fulfill the calls of prophesy to install our great Chosen One._

**XXIII. **_**Dark Legacy**_

_The one who we had been waiting for had finally come, the one who would set our grand plan in motion. Our High Priest swathed himself in cloaking magicks so strong that he would never be able to remove them, but it was necessary to move underneath the magic of Avalon. Finally he was prepared, and he hobbled to a monastery and hid himself there with the monks. He withstood the pain of their…goodness, their simplistic life dedicated to worship of a being of light and charity to the poor. Though this burnt his skin and aura every day, he waited until fate delivered a young boy named Daniel Bënnu to the monastery._

_The boy was strong in magic, as we had been warned, and had no control over it. He was terrified, and in his terror had lost control and set a robber aflame with the power of his mind. This was the one that we needed. The High Priest, disguised as a monk, told the child's horrified parents to allow the boy to live in the monastery where the power of God would help the boy. They agreed. As soon as everyone knew that they had relinquished their son we kidnapped them and drained their life forces, adding to our stores._

_Daniel Bënnu stayed with the monastery for four years. He was raised in the time after Camelot's collapse, when Britain succumbed to the glorious Dark Age that was ravaging the world. The boy was terrified of the fires of hell and the fires of the pyres that witches were threatened with. We encouraged this in him, and so when Avalon came looking for him, as we knew they would, he was so repulsed by them that he vowed he would escape their evil influence._

_There he met the daughter of Morgan le Fey and a man named Truth. He was of Rakia's bloodline, and he comforted the distraught Morgan after the death of her brother. They had a daughter, named Aimee, who inherited Rakia's bloodline as well as Morgan's. Though bound, her powers were enormous. Coupled with the Bënnu bloodline, they were…words don't describe. Blind to this, Morgan did not have enough power to stop Bënnu from running away with Aimee. They left the isle._

_Though Avalon lost interest in their children, we did not. We waited. For hundreds of years we waited, until the spell had been splintered into generations, some powerless, some not. When the line moved to the new world, we travelled to an unexplored desert and called forth the first Hellmouth of the world. There we positioned ourselves, and there we waited._

**XXIV. **_**Witch Mother and the Boy of Prophesy**_

_When the power of the Hellmouth called Jessica Benew to it, we watched her. When we knew that it was she who would fulfill the ancient prophesies we summoned the demon Neithal, mistress of misery, to bind herself to Jessica, our reverent Mother. When Jessica called on her powers to kill the mighty Neithal, she won the trial and proved herself champion of prophesy. We called our masters down on her that month's lunar eclipse._

_She mated with the Lord of Air, he who had conceived the sublime vision of Armageddon, and so Alexander was born, the boy._

_He is the Harbinger of Armageddon. He is the Doorway, he is the Key. It is through him that our masters will emerge and rule the world once more!_

_But we were foiled, for Jessica did not die as was fated. We could not steal the babe from her. And so it was that Avalon again interfered, when we tried to take that which was rightfully ours. And so that is the story, a thousand curses upon your heads. You cannot stop this. When our masters rise you will feast in hell with them as their slaves!_

**XXV. **_**Death and Life, Hand in Hand**_

At the end of his tale, the evil thing in the chair took a breath and slumped forward, shaking in rage and fear and Goddess only knows what. I had been released from my Binding Spell, and took the opportunity to sink to sit. The story…

You must understand that it inverted everything that I had learnt about Camelot, first off, and about Morgan le Fey. But what he was implying…I glanced at the boy on the bed. Xander was so small, so innocent in slumber. What was going to happen to him, with this legacy hanging over his head?

Our entire lives, the lives of a thousand great Witches and Druids, servants of Good, of Light and of Peace, had been in a silent battle we knew nothing of to guard the very life of the Earth and its inhabitants. And in our arrogant blindness, our great kingdom, Camelot, the realm of light and peace that we brought about, had brought about the Harbinger of every awful thing that we had attempted to fight against.

Our arrogance had destroyed us.

At that moment, I felt little more than a child. The pure evil of the thing before me had reduced me to a little girl who wished to cling to her mother's apron strings because the night is dark and full of badness. What was wrong and right, in that moment? How could I, a simple girl, be entrusted to be Lady of the Lake, when this dark battle was the legacy of that moment? Never before had I so questioned my strength, or the strength of my power. I longed for the home of Avalon, where I could attempt to forget this, where peace was the order.

"Perversion and lies," Shiloh said suddenly, and I flinched out of my reverie. He was so furious, so angry, that his aura was making the very air around him tremble. "Lies of our Queen Morgan and of Camelot, spawn of evil! DIE!"

"NO!" I screamed, but it was far too late. The thing's athame had been snatched from the table where it lay and Shiloh plunged it into his heart. I screamed as dark, inky black blood shot out, burning what it touched. Acidic blood sprayed Henry, the guard, and he sank to his knees, screaming. Shiloh took no notice. Madness seemed to have gripped him. Curses of Avalon – our own power our own undoing? I could do nothing but watch, until a ripple of power filled the air and the man's body exploded.

Fire filled the air, and I grabbed Xander and flung myself behind a wall. Henry's dead body flung itself against a wall, dashing brains where his head hit with a sound like splitting firewood. Shiloh fell gasping against a bed. Blood was simply everywhere, coated everything, a hellish baptismal splash. This was the nature of evil – to destroy everything, even in its defeat. A great sense of purpose filled me, the light of the Goddess and the strength of the God. This was my destiny – to fight evil, not with evil, as Shiloh had attempted, but with Good – a balance, as was necessary.

When I emerged from my hiding place, Shiloh turned to me, covered in blood, his eyes wild. "Where is the thing?! We must kill it!"

"You won't touch him. His life will be in the hands of our coven, not in the hands of one who has shown he has no rational judgment," I said coldly.

Though he sprang at me, cursing, I bound _him_ with a spell of my own. "Thomas," I said to the other guard. "Bring him. We must leave this hotel room and never come back."

And so we started the long journey back to Avalon.

**XXVI. **_**The Nature of Good and Evil**_

Despite the nature of the journey, all I could feel when I again entered the mystical realm of Avalon was relief. I cannot, of course, tell of the journey itself, for the true location of the Holy Isle is a carefully guarded secret, but this I can tell you – of its shields and spells and charms. Entering the realms of Avalon is like walking through a wall of solid magic; only those who know the Old Ways and know the exact spells and Words of Key can pass them. Entering is like a cleansing experience to the aura. I could feel the dirt of the road wash from me, could feel the calm again encapsulating my soul.

Although, when I looked down in the ship to see Xander bound in an enchanted sleep and Shiloh, once High Druid of Avalon, wrapped in magical chains of bondage with hate-filled eyes fixed on the boy and on me, I could not help but think that it was perhaps this sense of tranquility and calm serenity that all could feel on the Isle that had led to our being tricked into a sense of security by our deadly foes.

There was a small party waiting for us on the beach. The Master and Mistress of the Guard were standing at attention next to my mistress, the former Lady of the Lake, a venerable old woman named Sasha. The two women of the Council were next to the two men, and Mathu, soon to be the next High Druid, stood in front of them all.

I motioned for the master of the ship to stay behind with my…captives. I disembarked slowly, allowing myself to feel the relief of homecoming. The feeling would not last long, I knew. Mathu was already glaring at me impatiently, for it had been my mission that had interrupted his most sacred vows. I silently apologized to him – it is the nature of the relationship between Lord and Lady that they be working partners. His eyes widened as he felt that some unknown catastrophe would further delay his initiation, and he retreated, not saying a word to the curious council members.

"You have been gone far longer than expected, Lady," Sasha said after a moment, stepping forward as spokeswoman of the group.

The Council of Avalon, as I should probably tell you, is broken down into the faces of God and Goddess. As the mysteries inform us, the deities are that of the three stations of life – for Goddess it is Maiden, Mother and Crone; for God it is Master, Father and Sage. The Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle represent the phase of leadership, Mother and Father respectively. The Lord and Lady who passed their mantle of leadership down to the current Lord and Lady take up the mantle of Crone and Sage, the wise elders of Avalon. The two chosen to become Lord and Lady next are the youngest, the brightest and most powerful of the students, and they are the Maiden and Master. I was once the Maiden of Avalon, not two years past. Mathu still held the position of Master, for Shiloh was the Lord of the Isle. Shiloh's old teacher, Erik, looked incredibly tired. He was ready to move on, to fade into the mists of the afterlife. I felt incredibly sorry that I was stalling that transition again. Sasha, once Lady of the Lake, now Crone the wise woman of Avalon, stood waiting for my answer.

I took a deep breath and reached within me for the constant thrum of magic that whispered through my veins. It felt magnified here a thousand fold, and I reached it down into the Earth, feeling the beauty of the God and Goddess in perfect unison, sustaining this their great creation, giving Life. I drew some of that power into myself. I would stand before this test as the Lady of the Lake, Mistress of Avalon, not as a tired once-fledgeling who had been pushed from the nest too brutally and too soon. I had woken up, and I had had my path chosen for me by God and Goddess. I would not deny their holy charge.

"Forgive me, Sasha," I said quietly, my voice ringing with authority. I could feel my old mentor's slight surprise at my regal tone, at my easy slide into the role of Lady. "A problem has come up, an ancient problem that poses grave threat to us all. Assemble the Council," I ordered. "There is a problem that must be decided for the good of us all."

"You can't technically call the Council together without the Lord of the Isle," Mathu said quietly. We all turned to stare at him; I could feel myself beginning to stir with anger at the charge of bureaucracy before he continued: "Where is he?"

I sighed at the simple question – well, I had known it was coming. "Bring him," I ordered back to the ship. The master of the ship emerged from the hold, cautiously carrying a struggling Shiloh to deposit him gently on the beach of Avalon. The Council gasped in collective shock.

"How _dare_ you bind the Master of Avalon?!" Mathu yelled, apoplectic with rage. Sasha was glaring at me with cold eyes and the young woman who had just been appointed Maiden, Audrey, merely looked confused and shocked.

"It was entirely necessary, for reasons which I will explain when—" I began tiredly.

"I think you will explain it now," Sasha declared, her eyes blazing with self-righteousness and the power of a woman who was once the most powerful Witch Queen of the most powerful coven in the world. Abruptly my temper snapped. I do not condone my words now, but at the time you must understand that I had just returned from a strange country I had never been in before, and in that country I had had to fight for my life, watch my friend die in front of me, had my illusions of history shattered by an evil creature and subvert my training to restrain my superior in order to save the life of a boy prophesied to by the Harbinger of Armageddon. Understandably, I think, I snapped.

"I _think_ that as Lady of the Lake I am the superior of everyone here at the moment, and I _say_ that you will follow my orders _right now_!" I snapped, my voice resonating with magical power, static electricity sparking in my hair.

Sasha looked like I had slapped her. When she opened her mouth to respond, however, she was stopped by a low, hoarse chuckle. "I believe, if what I am sensing from the ship is correct, that there is quite the story to hear from this. As old as I am I have come to value a story, particularly one that is true. I will make the Council chambers ready," Erik said after a moment. He turned on his arthritic joints and began walking slowly yet steadily on a hawthorn staff toward the buildings of Avalon.

After a long moment, Mathu and the others followed him, leaving Sasha and myself to stand on the beach of the Isle with Shiloh laying struggling on the ground near our feet. She stared at me for a long moment, measuring my eyes and I hers. "You've changed a great deal, Marie-Claire," she said finally. "Something both great and terrible has happened to you, and the mark of the Goddess is on you – you've been charged."

"Yes," I answered. "I don't want to argue with you, my teacher – I _will_ explain myself and tell all to you. But please respect me in this, for this decision impacts not just the future of our coven but perhaps the future of this world." There was a moment of silent communication between us that had occurred so often before, from student to teacher. Without another word she lifted her hands and levitated Shiloh before her and turned to do my will.

As soon as her eyes were off of me I slumped forward in absolute exhaustion. The scent of apples that our island had been named for filled my nostrils and mixed with the calm lapping of the waves. The sun was shining, the incarnation of the God spilling light and life down on this calm, happy place that I would now tear asunder. It was not fair that I should be the one to doom the complacency here, a complacency that we should never have fallen fully into. We had been lulled into happiness. I would be remembered as the one that would break that happiness.

I gripped some sand in each fist and watched it trickle through my fingers – so much like time, each grain a lifetime that in itself might be insignificant but together weave a rich tapestry that is so profound we have yet to understand it. Something was happening now to destroy that tapestry, and I couldn't let it happen…but at the same time I could not become as monstrous as that which sought to destroy us all. I would not take the life of an innocent child for mere ancestry.

Going to the ship I said the spell to waken the boy. Xander opened his rich chocolate eyes – and they seemed to affirm my decision, in their sleepy innocence. Since reaching the protected shores of Avalon, the demonic hints had left his system, or been suppressed at any rate. I was pleased to note that his skin was not as pale as I had thought but instead a sort of golden tan like honey, and a mouth that was given to smiling. I held out my hand with a pleased smile and helped him out to the beach.

"What is this place?" he asked, breathing deeply. In an absurdly motherly way it pleased me to see his happiness.

"This is Avalon, Xander – my home," I answered. His eyes widened as the ship vanished, but I had seen it too many times to be surprised. "Just its job," I explained, gently guiding him off the shore and toward the rich grasses of the hills.

"Can I go swimming?" Xander asked eagerly, looking back toward the beach.

"Maybe tomorrow," I said quietly.

**888**

The inner temple of the main building of Avalon is deep in the earth, grounded in the deepest of old magicks. The center of the circular chamber contains an ancient crystal called _Aliana la'Chroi_, which is positioned directly above the Nexus, channeling its powers. From that chamber the Council of Avalon has the potential to cast spells that could take effect at any point in the world – though of course any spell that requires the focusing power of the _Aliana_ has its own policies that are required – but I digress.

In the grandest chairs to the East sit the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of the Isle – all Circles begin in the East, so therefore the ruling power of the Council sits there as well. The other offices are located in a triangle from the East, so that the youngest sit in Fire and Water, while the oldest sit in Earth and Water.

To my knowledge, a mandatory Council meeting such as what I was calling for now had not been performed in more than a century. This was the group of people that I would have to convince of Xander's innocence. I knew that I must not, _could not_, fail, in my duty to the God and the Goddess, in my duty to myself, and in my duty to my office.

It would be a long battle though; I knew, for of the Council I could perhaps count Erik and Sasha for my cause. Mathu would follow Shiloh's beliefs, and Audrey was far too new for me to tell what she would decide.

I had taken a night of rest and relaxation to prepare myself for the next day, with Xander installed in my quarters for the time being. I had bathed and slept deeply, waking the next day feeling refreshed. I sent for my guards to take Xander to the younger charges and allow them all a day of rest and freedom from their studies while the Council debated. This was also, I must admit, a way of safeguarding him from Shiloh, for I did not trust my then-counterpart to not merely make another attempt on the boy's life rather than fight with me for the right to kill him or let him live.

I entered the Chamber dressed in a pure white dress, a white cloak wrapped around me. I wore the Circlet of Athena, an ancient talisman, and prayed for Her wisdom and Her courage in battle as I assumed my seat. Shiloh was already in his, his face lined with rage and pure refusal to look at me. I had been expecting this and did not let him see my intimidation. I held my head high and sat down.

Sasha and Erik sat at their seats to my right, my old teacher in the black robes of the Crone and Erik in comfortable brown. Sasha was watching me carefully, but I could detect no emotion on her face or in her aura. She was not shutting me out due to meanness, but I could tell that she would carefully weigh all of the evidence and then make her decision; she would not come out in full support of me just so that I would not have to fight as hard. Erik was impossible to read and always had been. He sat calmly, contented, and seemed to be meditating.

Mathu was dressed in red, and looked very angry. I did not want to know what Shiloh had already told him and decided then that I didn't much care. I had already expected to have to fight him. Audrey looked far calmer than I had expected her to, and met my gaze without flinching. She was wearing dark blue.

I stood from my chair and began: "My Lords and Ladies, I bid thee Hail and Welcome to this most grievous of Councils. A decision must be made in the name of all of Avalon, and I entreat that you give your consent to enter into the debate of the decision of this Council. In the name of God and Goddess, will you give your consent?"

"I consent," Erik said, his voice stronger than I had thought it would be.

"I consent," Sasha said simply.

"I consent," Audrey said.

"I…_consent_," Mathu spit out angrily. He had already made his choice without hearing my tale. _So be it_, I thought.

"Then, in the name of the God and the Goddess, this Council of Avalon has been called. Blessed be," Shiloh said coldly, and resumed his seat. "As the Lady of the Lake has taken initiative to call this Council, she will begin." He gestured to me condescendingly, and I fought to not insult the man then and there, but I would not allow him to goad me into losing control and hurting my chances of winning this contest of words.

"I thank you for your consent," I said instead, completing the ritual. "I will tell the tale." And for what must have been an hour I did so – starting from the beginning, the tale that Shiloh himself had outlined for me from our own archives and my own story up to that point. When I had finished my legs hurt from the standing and my mouth was dry. I took a sip of water from the chalice next to my chair and resumed my seat gratefully.

Sasha slowly stood up. "I thank you, Lady, for calling this Council," she said after a moment. "When I had heard that old tale, I did not at first believe it. That complacency has been this Council's folly, and I praise your courage in the face of your horrific adversaries. This is indeed a matter to be put to the vote of the Council of Avalon."

"I don't see that there is much to vote on," Shiloh said flatly. "Every word that the Lady spoke was true; I did indeed attempt to kill the boy and I would do it again given the opportunity. Our fears of his innocence cannot outweigh the fact that _that_ 'boy' has the potential to be a living conduit of the absolute Armageddon of mankind."

"But the key word in the Lord's argument is _potential_," I said, equally unequivocally. "And every human being has the _potential_ to be evil. Look at this Council! Should any one of us turn rogue and attempt to wrest control of the Avalonian Nexus, _think_ how much damage that one person could do before we could even attempt to stop them! We cannot sink to our enemies' level and end the life of an innocent _child_ out of our fear of that child's 'potential.'"

"_You_ have already gone against Council mandate and attacked the Lord of Avalon," Mathu said flatly, which stopped the Council dead. Shiloh had a lightly triumphant grin on his face and I realized at once what he had instructed his pupil to do. If I was found guilty of a crime serious enough, my arguments would be thrown out, as would I, and Shiloh would be able to do as he wanted with Xander. "I move to dismiss the arguments of the Lady of the Lake and bring her to trial for her crimes against her counterpart."

"I move to dismiss your trial," Audrey said suddenly. She stood up, her small size suddenly making her seem even more intimidating. "The Lord of the Isle as already dismissed it – for a Binding is only seen as an attack in one interpretation…and the Lord already admitted to Binding the Lady of the Lake to one spot while he interrogated the enemy assassin. Therefore your unworthy and childish attempts to avoid the argument to get your own way are negated." The Maiden of Avalon met Shiloh's fierce glare utterly fearlessly, her eyes daring him to continue.

Mathu sat back down, his face red, refusing to meet my gaze. I would not smirk in triumph; I felt instead disgusted. Was the office of the Lord of Avalon so abused that he would sink to such indeed childish displays to countermand my argument? Shiloh could see by Sasha and Erik's cool gazes that he had made a mistake; neither looked quite impressed by his attempted political trickery and so he stood up.

"Yes, child," he said, nodding politely in Audrey's direction, deliberately drawing out the word 'child,' as if to emphasize to his older contemporaries her youth. "We will debate this. But I urge the Council to understand that evil is an inherent part of our humanity, as my Lady already has pointed out. Therefore, the _potential_ for destruction can by necessity be measured great enough to commit this crime.

"I stand before you in genuine fear of what our enemies can perhaps be capable of should they ever be able to get Alexander Harris in their clutches! You have heard the tale – Camelot, our greatest loss in all of magical _history_, was caused almost directly by _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ – all without our being aware of it! Directly under our magical gazes! The trials of Jessica Harris were a human error – one that we cannot afford to make again!

"I say unto you again, and again – the cursed bloodline of Atlantis _must_ be stopped – forever!" He took a breath and sat down again. His words had had their effect, and I could see his logic behind them.

"Yes, _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ has indeed been able to accomplish all of this because of our blindness – but blindness once fixed can be fixed again!" I said, stepping to the forefront of the chamber. "Were we not able to Bind the powers of the bloodline once before? The only way that that Binding has weakened was because we _have_ been complacent and indeed _weak_. With this knowledge we can again Bind them and we need not spill innocent blood!

"Never allow yourselves to think of Xander – yes, his _name_ – is a _child_, with a child's understanding of the world and of his powers. We have rescued him from the clutches of our enemies; now let us rescue him for all of time from them and instead of committing the murder of a child – a horrific crime against God and Goddess! – let us Bind the powers of Alexander Harris!"

"Binding once broken can be broken again!" Mathu said, stepping forward. "And it is not the Binding that we are here to discuss! What is evil?" he asked suddenly, changing pace, and we all turned to stare at him; even Shiloh: whatever tactics they had discussed the night before had not included this.

"Is that not what we are arguing about?" Mathu persisted. "We consider murder a great evil, yes? An evil great enough for the Lady of the Lake to press her argument…but has not this _child_, so called, already murdered?"

"In _self-defense_!" I began, hotly, but was stopped by Sasha.

"Murder is murder," she said quietly. "I will give thought to Mathu's argument – could not the innocence you claim is in the child have not killed but instead harmed?"

"He has no training to allow for that distinction!" I said. "We have all been taught that our magic is tied to our emotions, that our powers can lash out without years of training – look at Amelia! Was she not training a class of ten-year-olds in the nuances of gardening when a child in a fit of pique accidentally allowed her emotions to control her powers and knock Amelia unconscious?" The girl was a powerful earth-witch, and had she not come to her senses after a fight with another girl she could very well have killed Amelia. This thought clearly gave Sasha pause.

"And could Binding not save him?" Audrey asked, standing with me. "Evil is not something inherent in everyone; as our Lord and Lady have pointed out, everyone has the _potential_ for Evil within them. It is the _choice_ that is the true Evil, and could we not take Xander out of the way of having to _make_ that choice? I understand that he grew up in a broken home – could we not give him a better, more stable environment?"

"Other children come from broken homes," Mathu snapped. "And yet which among them will grow up to be a murderer and which will become a hero? The potential for evil is indeed in every human but there are those who will grow up with more of it than others! Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely – the old maxim that we all know! Did we all not _feel_ the power that boy possessed when he stepped onto the Holy Isle? That power will drive him to kill again for it is a demonic power!"

"An ordinary human might suggest that our abilities are demonic, Mathu," Erik said. "It is all perspective. Power itself is not a living thing to inspire Evil; it is what we as humans do _with_ that power. Our founder, the great Ferro, had unimaginable amounts of power within him and yet he never strayed from his path, even when Pandora betrayed him, even when she unleashed the miseries of the world, Ferro would not use his powers to take a life…and neither should we. I will not cast a vote to kill the child."

"I will not cast my vote to kill the child," Audrey said. "Potential for Evil can always be coupled with potential for Good, and we have all seen from Marie-Claire's perspective that there is a great light inside Xander Harris. I will not take the chance and extinguish that light out of fear of an enemy that will not show their face."

"You already know my vote, I said quietly. "That makes it three against two, with one vote undecided. In summation, the vote stands thus: the Wise Woman stands undecided and the Sage votes against death. The Lady of the Lake votes against death but the Lord of the Isle votes for death. The Master of Avalon votes for death, and the Maiden of Avalon votes against it.

"Milady Crone, are you ready to issue your decision?" I asked. Sasha alone remained sitting, slowly taking us in. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

"No, I am not ready to make my decision," she said quietly.

"Sasha! This must be decided—" Shiloh began, but she silenced him with a cutting gesture.

"Take me to the child before I make my decision," she said simply, and stood to make her way out of the chamber. After a moment's hesitation Mathu led Audrey out of the chamber as well, leaving me, Shiloh and Erik still there.

"Well, it seems to crush our traditions under your feet like fragile glass everywhere you step," Shiloh said cuttingly. "Even the Crone will not wait for you to end the ritual of Council."

"Better a wise decision made later than a wrong decision made rashly," I said flatly, and strode out of the chamber without a backwards glance. Erik was laughing behind me but I would not stay. I intended to see this – surely Sasha would be moved by Xander's easy innocence!

**888**

We found the boy on the beach, where he was dressed in the bathing attire of Avalon and laughing like a devil as he sprinted far from the exasperated guards to jump off of the tall rocks. The teenaged students were giggling as half the girl children blushed at Xander and half the boys were inspired by him and tore off after him, causing a few of the teachers to run after them all. One of the more portly teachers (I couldn't see from the distance) sat down in the sand after a moment, and the laughing teenagers almost collapsed.

Xander threw himself off of the rock and for an eternity he seemed poised in the air, a little boy yet not quite, an innocent and a dervish, his face peaceful and happy and laughing, before time caught up to him and he slammed into the water in a cannonball that had everyone laughing again. Xander liked the attention, and he smiled as he surfaced, a bright, sunny grin that lit his entire face up.

We all stood there, in a line, until Sasha turned to face all of us. A tear tracked down her face and for a second I thought I would vomit until she said "I will not murder this child. My vote is with the Lady of the Lake."

Shiloh cursed and spat on the ground and stomped away. Mathu stared at Xander, the small smiling boy who had caused so much. He wanted to say something but didn't. He nodded politely to us all and left at a much more sedate pace than his teacher's. I closed my eyes and thanked the God and the Goddess, who seemed to smile along with me in the brilliant sunlight and the calm, calm sea.

**XXVII. **_**Under the Mother Moon**_

One month later, Xander and I were standing outside. It was nighttime, but it was warm – Avalon was always warm, an ancient weather spell gifted to the island by the faeries long ago. There is a reason that we are referred to as "the Summer Isle." The Moon hung high in the sky. It was the full moon, the Seed Moon, one of the thirteen Esbats, or Holy Days. These nights our magic was strongest, the Goddess present in all of us.

This was the full moon of April, the beginning of Spring, a great time for planting. Xander had been with us a full month and he had been able to sit in on some classes. He had a natural aptitude for gardening, Amelia had reported, and seemed to know the best places to plant things. His uncanny knack for knowing when a bad time was for planting due to the weather's influence over him (and his influence over it) had led to what would be a great crop this year, she had said excitedly.

Xander had surprised everyone with his thirst for the outdoors. He had explained to me that he felt safe under an open sky, because when it was dark indoors it meant that people were mad at him. I hated his parents then, but I knew that he would eventually be returning to them. So instead I had decided to break an old Wiccan law and take him out here before the great ritual would begin.

"The night sky is full of magic, Xander. You can't fear it," I said softly. He was smiling again, that bright, happy smile. He took my hand trustingly and when he squeezed it I felt it squeeze my heart. "In the night you see everything for what it really is. People think the Sun tells the truth but it actually doesn't."

"Why?"

"It's always been like that, Xander," I said with a smile. "In the night everything is clearer. The stars tell the future, the Moon illuminates the truth. You smell more, sense more, like a veil has been pulled away and suddenly everything you know is displayed to you."

He threw his head back and sniffed, and I couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. "Isn't the Moon the Goddess?" he asked.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," I said guardedly. Once again he'd shown that odd, adult nature to his speaking.

"Is there a God and a Goddess?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then why do we only say God when we pray?"

"Well…you're praying to the Creator," I said, struggling to explain. "The God and the Goddess that I speak of are…the Earth, and the Sky…the magic…" How to explain this to a child?

"Oh," he said. "Magic." Then he turned and gave me a triumphant smile as the wind kicked up around us. There was nothing evil in his gaze, no darkness – he was controlling it, easily, still smiling, still human, still Xander. The breeze tickled around me, the scent of apples strong in the night air, and it was as if the spirits of Mother Nature Herself were dancing around me. I felt suddenly as if _I_ were the child and _he_ the teacher, and I had to laugh.

He slowly turned in a circle and the wind moved with him, lifted him, he was floating and the Moon was suddenly very, very bright. Petals drifted from the flowers of the apple blossoms around us, joining the dance. It was intoxicating, this control over the elements. I longed suddenly to see the world the way that he saw it, for I knew that Xander _was_ different, saw things differently. The air grew warmer, the breeze tickling and chuckling around me as the grass seemed to…zing, I believe the term is, with a wilder green.

The song of the wind, of the Earth itself, was pulsing like a heartbeat and I knew suddenly that he was sharing this with me, the way that he saw the night. The song roared like a primal pulse of pure music in my head, a song of power and also of Life, something that he danced to and that I danced to. I noticed in a detached sort of way that my feet were no longer touching solid ground and yet I didn't care. I was connected to the Great Mother and the Father and everything around me, the wind carrying me where it wished.

The feeling is…indescribable. I will carry my memories of that night with me until I die.

Xander slowly landed, the breeze dying. The song faded from my ears, but I did not feel loss. I knew suddenly that I would prophesy a great prophecy that night, that the Goddess would enter me freely and that I would remember all of my words of the future in the great Esbat ritual of Drawing Down the Moon.

"Xander, whenever you feel the need of the Goddess, find the Moonflower," I told him, breaking my vows of secrecy. I led him to a white lily that only the initiated could find. "Drink of this nectar and She will enter you. You'll know what to do then."

**XXVIII. **_**Spells of Binding and Protection, Blessed Be**_

The Dark of the Moon is the best time for a Binding Enchantment, for it is the time of waning. This is not an evil time, merely a reflection of the rhythms of life. Never mistake magic as unnatural, therefore; for it must itself follow the rules of natural life. The new moon fell at the beginning of March that year, so we waited until then. Xander had a month and a half at Avalon, and had made friends, had enchanted his teachers and indeed myself. Shiloh avoided him, to be sure, but Mathu was fast approaching his solemn initiation rituals into the office of Lord of Avalon, so it did not overly concern me.

However, it was decided that he could not stay at Avalon his whole life. If we were to Bind Xander's powers, then it would be cruel to do as our ancestors had done and expose him to a magic that he could never wield, to a world that he could live within but not take part of. We decided that we would send him home – but then how to keep him from _Tiocfaidh ár lá_? We would have to go about this very carefully, and so we researched all of the ancient protection magicks that were within our archives.

When at last we were ready, we sent for Xander. We did not tell him what it was that we were going to do to him. Cowardice, on my part; I didn't want to see the look in his eyes when I told him that he was leaving. So he was dressed in the ritual black robes and led down into the Earth, to the sacred chamber, to sit over the _Aliana la'Chroi_, for if we were to do this it would need to be with all of the power that Avalon could muster. Sasha, as representation of the Wise Woman and Crone on the face of the Earth, would lead the ritual. We put Xander into an enchanted sleep…I'll never forget the _trust_ on his face. Xander does not break his love for you, once given…But I digress.

I cannot reveal to you the ritual itself, but suffice to say that it worked. Xander's powers were Bound, to never again resurface. But we went a step further. I wanted a normal life for Xander – I wanted him to have the chance to find happiness, to find a lover or start a family or follow whatever his heart desired. I wanted to let the human light inside him flourish now that the power was bound. So I entered into the flow of the Nexus and obliterated his memories of Avalon, of myself, of his powers, and of anything strange that had ever happened to him. I threw myself astrally into Sunnydale and repeated the process to his parents, his teachers, his friends, and indeed everyone.

When I had finished, I sat down to Ground and Center myself, and Audrey stepped forward. She entered into the power of the Nexus as well, but hers was a difficult task. She was joined by Mathu, who was still technically Master and not yet Lord, and together they combined their powers, the powers of youth and the fires of the young, power undimmed by worldly concern. They joined their fire together to create a shield, a protection sphere around Xander that would protect him from _Tiocfaidh ár lá_. It shielded Sunnydale, California, which is why a small spell on Xander himself would keep him from a desire to leave.

Understand at that time I was not aware that Sunnydale was located on the Hellmouth; I was far too caught up in my personal drama involving Xander at the time. It was an oversight that has cost me many nights' sleep – however, you'll notice that nearly all demons don't attempt to kill Xander so much as…mate with him. A small mercy, to be sure, but one that has saved his life many times.

I myself bore Xander to the Barge of Avalon and laid him to rest with the two guards who would accompany him to his home, shielded so heavily from magical detection that I myself could not psychically sense them, even though they stood not two feet from me. Xander would not awaken until he was home in bed. All that he would remember was being "institutionalized," with me as his primary caretaker. His parents would remember that it was free, and Xander would go back to his normal life with no adverse affects.

I did not see Xander again for eight years…until now.

**XXIX. **_**Xander**_

Though I did not personally see him, I did keep an eye on him, magically speaking. Xander had laid a claim on my heart, though I didn't like to admit it. I checked in on him from time to time and for the most part I was highly pleased with what I saw.

Xander, freed from the ominous demonic overshadow, had become the bright, happy boy that he'd been destined to be. He was outgoing, cheerful, friendly, and happy. He made friends and he defended them from others. True, his home life wasn't quite what he deserved, but his parents weren't completely abusive. And he had two best friends – Willow Rosenberg and Jesse McNally.

He grew up, the protection spell doing its job. The Avalon Coven was content with the fact that I was keeping watch over him. We had vowed that even though the protection magicks were strong and doing their jobs, we would never stop watching. We couldn't afford to do what our ancestors had done. Which was why it was of such concern that Xander had somehow managed to become involved with the Slayer.

You must understand, Ms. Summers, that you are, to say the least, an…_unorthodox_ Slayer. There's been nearly no Slayers before that have actually surrounded themselves with friends who not only know their secret but choose to help them shoulder the burden. Xander has joined the roster of a very powerful new witch, a Watcher with a very interesting past, an ordinary girl with a very interesting future, and a werewolf. The entire Otherworld, the world made up of magic and everything else that the "ordinary" realm rejects as fairy tales, keeps a close watch on you. No one is sure what you can do, how far you can go. To put it bluntly, the demonic world is frightened of you.

This seemed at first to aid me in my argument _for_ Xander; you understand that Xander _chose_ to fight with you, which seemed to indicate to all involved that we had indeed been successful, that whatever evil may or may not have been present within him was no longer a threat. However, certain turns of events have led to the entire reason why we're here. That is to say, I must rehash what must be a wound for nearly everyone in this room – Angelus.

**XXX. **_**The Fires of Passion, Once Lit, Can Burn Everything in Their Path**_

And, so, we have nearly reached the end of this story. Here is where Avalon's knowledge has failed, and all we can tell you is our conjecture. What we do know is what we have been able to learn from Jenny Calendar, and from our observations thus far.

Jenny Calendar was positioned exactly as we needed her once Xander joined the forces of the Slayer. It was decided that he needed more watching by the Council, and so we contacted Jenny. She had been our student once and so was honor-bound to aid us when we needed her. She had been positioned in Sunnydale to watch over Angel, as you know, by her clan. Because she was posed as a teacher she was also in perfect ability to watch Xander as well.

We don't know exactly what went on between Xander and Angelus after the vampire captured him. Xander was blocked from magical Sight by the mad vampire, Drusilla. What we _do_ know is what led up to his capture. A powerful love spell led to Angelus tasting Xander's blood. Xander was found out to be Angelus' Cruor Aduro – ah, Mr. Giles, I see you understand. I will elaborate for the rest of you.

_Lecruor ut sono_ is an old vampire legend that has its roots in reality. A powerful mage, thousands of years ago, had offended a demon badly enough for the demon to seek revenge. The mage's wife was turned into a vampire and cursed to waste away before her husband. Certain vampires are born into their demonic existence with more humanity in them than other demons – like William the Bloody, and Drusilla…in fact, most of the so-called Scourge of Europe are more possessed of human traits than other vampires. The woman, whose name has been lost to antiquity, had been cursed to only ever be able to feed off of her husband, thus cursing her to death – if she did feed off of him she would kill him, which would slowly kill her. If she didn't feed off of him she would die of starvation anyway.

The mage, overcome with grief, cast a spell. He took the magical essence of a Siren and mixed it with his own blood. He became the first Cruor Aduro – Blood Singer. His blood sustained his wife for up to a month at a time, and her Claiming of him made him immortal, as long as she lived. She lived for an immensely long time – the Slayers could not track her for if she were ever being tailed she could simply disappear. She did not need to hunt every night of her life because of her husband. Eventually a Slayer was forced to stop her by ending the vampire's husband's life. The grief of losing him after dozens of lifetimes together, joined by the Claiming, coupled with the magical loss of her Cruor Aduro, led her to walk into the sunlight. The entire thing has become something of a tragedy told among vampires.

What her husband had not counted on, however, was that any great work of magic such as what he wrought, has consequences that ripple across the planes of reality. He essentially made himself something _more_ than a human, a magical creature but not quite of the Faerie. The magic fused into his blood created something more. The essence of the Sirens had been unleashed.

In certain cases two beings are joined together by Fate, something that we cannot understand. When this happens in the case of vampires – something extremely rare, due to the fact that all vampires are soulless – this creates a Cruor Aduro. Xander had become that thing for Angelus. We don't know how but such as it was. We heard the ripples through the magical realms as the two were joined, beginning an ancient ritual that was completed when Angelus Claimed Xander as his own.

This may have been bad enough, but it was the first cord to unravel all that we had worked. It turns out, as you have learned, that the Stoírm planned this from the beginning. Angelus was led deliberately by a possessed Seer to find Xander, to learn of his origins, to Claim him. What the Stoírm undoubtedly planned was for Angelus to make Xander immortal and tinge him once again with demonic taint. This would have led his followers to be able to find Xander and shatter our protection charms once and for all.

However, the vampire Angelus has always gone that extra mile. He did the Stoírm's job for him by completing the ritual and removing Xander's Binding. The Stoírm had only to wait until a moment of extreme stress led Xander's already fragile consciousness to surrender to the possession of his forefather.

Now the situation stands as you see before you: Xander is still in there, deep in the spirit. His body, however, by now belongs entirely to the Stoírm. The Slayer is so hurt she can barely walk, along with Angelus; no matter how potentially powerful your Wicca is, she is nearly dropping and needs to rest before her magic destroys her. The werewolf, the girl and the Watcher are all in as bad a shape as you are. And in all of this you only managed to knock the demon unconscious. As it is unconscious now, now is the time that a plan can be made.

If the Stoírm is allowed to finish its plan it will use Xander as the Doorway that he was prophesied to be to open the way to Atlantis, where Pandora still lives, join Xander's body with the fount of human evil, and unleash Armageddon upon the face of the Earth. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, I can no longer argue with the decision of the entire Council…including myself.

_Alexander Harris must die._

**A/N**: _**OH MY EFFING GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**_

I'm sorry, I just had to get that out! I've finally finished this chapter! Finally! And it was good! And I _**FINISHED IT**_!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, seriously, I'm done. But you have no idea how GOOD it feels to be done with this. I can't wait to hear what you guys think of it! And I promise that the next chapter will of course be shorter than this and will jump right back to where these two left off.

What will happen? Who will ultimately affect the outcome? What's going to happen to Xander? To Angelus? To Buffy? Well, I could tell you, but that would spoil the whole point of reading this, so there you go! (Heh heh heh!)

Some final end notes: I just finally got the chance to see _**The Dark Knight**_. Oh, my, God! That movie was freaking insane! I loved it! LOVED it! Of course, I still _really_ wish that David Boreanaz had actually accepted the role of Batman, because he was offered it before they shot _Batman Begins_, but the movies are still freaking amazing. Sigh.

SO, GUESS WHAT? You know how I said that two one-shots will be out by the end of this week? I wasn't lying to you guys this time. I am really sorry that this chapter took me so long to write, but if you read the first chunk of the author's note up at the top you know why it did. My life's been pretty crazed around here lately, so please bear with me. I _will_ finish this fic. It's too _damn __**LONG**_ by now to _not_ finish it!

So, read and review, and look for my other two fics to be out by Sunday. I will be writing the next chapter of this fic as well, but I won't be optimistic enough to say something like "Expect it by Christmas."

_**SO, IN CASE YOU DON'T HEAR FROM ME AGAIN UNTIL AFTER THE HOLIDAYS, GOD/GODDESS/MYSTICAL BEING/FELLOW ATHEISTS BLESS YOU ALL, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING WHAT I'VE WROTE!**_

_Being the end of the insanely long chapters known as Chapter XIX, Parts I & II. -- PyroPadawan_


	23. XX: The Dance of Souls, or, The Choice

**A/N:** Wow, so it's been a bit of a stretch since I've had to introduce a chapter to this story, huh? Sorry that it's been so long, but you know how that goes – I figure if I get you guys to drop in a read a chapter now and then, I've done my job.

So, this is going to be a two-chapter update; I'm finishing up the second part of this update as we speak. I'm not sure if I'll be updating again by the end of today or if I'll wait till tomorrow, but either way, in the next couple of days, there will be another update. But take heart in the fact that the insanely long chapters are done! Hopefully forever.

**Special thanks, as always, to all my reviewers**.

So, with all that out of the way, let me present (lame drum roll sounds):

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter 20

_The Dance of Souls_

_(or, The Choice)_

"If the Stoírm is allowed to finish its plan it will use Xander as the Doorway he was prophesied to be to open the way to Atlantis, where Pandora still lives, join Xander's body with the fount of human evil, and unleash Armageddon upon the face of the Earth. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, I can no longer argue with the decision of the entire Council…including myself.

"_Alexander Harris must die_."

The Lady of the Lake's voice rang out, loud, clear, and utterly unshakeable in the ruins of Giles' apartment.

"I _dare_ you to try," Angelus snarled fatally, his demonic visage rendered even more horrible by the vicious wounds on his face, his yellow eyes enraged, his vicious fangs bared in a death-grin. Despite the fact that he could barely stand at that moment it was clear to everyone that he would fight to the death to protect Xander, and he would do his damndest to ensure that at least of the attackers would die with him.

"You can barely stand without shaking, vampire," the Lord of the Isle spat coldly. "Stand aside."

"And _you_ can't use your fancy magic in this apartment, pussy," Angelus said with a deadly grin. "Care to see how long a little weakling like _you_ would last against a hurt vampire without your spells to hide behind?"

"_Unfortunately_," the Lady said loudly, cutting off the Lord's enraged return, "the vampire is right. Despite these seven's wounded state, without our magic it would be a fight that none of us can afford right now if we wish to retain our strength."

"Now that we have that settled, we'll be saying good day, and you can clear out of here," Angelus said flatly.

"No. The decision does not rest with a demon," she returned. "The decision rests with the Slayer."

Buffy froze where she stood. She'd known this was coming, somehow, from the intensity in the woman's blue eyes she'd known that this was going to come down to something between them. There was a dart of understanding that was growing between them despite how much Buffy tried to damp it down, tried to ignore it. They both were facing the exact same dilemma.

They loved Xander – to Buffy Xander was like the brother that she had never had, always there for her even when she was at her worst, always cracking jokes in an attempt to cheer her up even when the odds were utterly overwhelmingly set against her. It had been Xander, a frightened sixteen year old boy, who had shoved a cross into Angel's face and demanded that the vampire take him to the Master's lair to save Buffy's life.

To Marie-Claire, Xander was like a son, almost, or a favorite pupil. Marie-Claire had rescued him from not only death but from his parents as well, even for a little while. She had fought to protect his life because she'd seen how precious the humanity in him was. She'd seen that bright Xander-smile that could cheer everyone around him up, she'd seen his genuinely helpful nature and his stupid white-knight complex that led him to try and save everyone around him no matter if he loved them or not.

And yet…

Buffy was the Slayer, the Chosen One born to not only slay vampires and protect humanity from demonic evil, but to protect the _world_ from that evil. She knew without being told that everything that Marie-Claire had said was true; she didn't need Giles to verify it, she could _feel _it. And it was the only explanation that fit everything and made sense. And if the story was true, then so were the consequences.

The Stoírm demon must be stopped, it was as simple as that. And the only way to truly stop him the way that he _should_ have been stopped, eons ago, would be to…to _end_ the bloodline that gave him the power to potentially enter this world yet again. And the only way that blood would stop…she knew exactly what Marie-Claire was asking her to decide, because it was what everyone was asking her to decide.

She was the Slayer, and it was _she_ at the end of the day, no matter how physically and emotionally exhausted she was, who had to decide the decisions that could potentially affect the entire world. She'd learned that lesson early and she'd learned it hard; deciding to skip one night of patrol in Sunnydale and four of her classmates would be dead the next morning, victims of a horrific demonic ritual.

No matter how powerful or influential Avalon was, no matter the sacred trust that they had been burdened with since Ferro had founded the magical island, this decision was going to be laid at _Buffy's_ feet, because she was the Slayer, and the decision was too painful for Marie-Claire to make herself. Buffy felt suddenly so _angry_. She was only _seventeen_ years old! Why the _hell_ did _she_ have to deal with this?!

"No!" Buffy snapped, jerking backwards from them. "No! It's not _fair_!" She was aware that she sounded like a whining child but at the moment that was what she _was_. A child! "You can't waltz in here from your stupid magic whosit and tell _me_ to decide to _kill my best friend_! You _can't_! It's not fair!"

She was horrified to feel tears starting to build in her eyes, and she turned away from the overwhelming pity in the Lady's eyes. She didn't want _pity_; she wanted to go _home_ and crawl into bed and forget that this nightmare was actually _true_ and it was happening to _her, again_.

"I am truly sorry, Buffy," Marie-Claire said after a moment. "I can't begin to understand how hard this has all been for you…but you understand that in my position I can't afford to take personal feelings into consideration."

"Screw that, screw this and screw you," Cordelia said angrily, stepping forward. "You can't just come in here and say, 'let's get with the killing!' You said you've, what, 'bound' this thing before, right? Why can't you just do the same damn spell again? I mean, we just keep him away from fang face over there and what's the big deal?"

"It's not that simple, girl," Mathu snarled. "Can't you see? A mad vampire broke the Binding Spell in one night, simple as that, with an old vampire blood rite! The power of the bloodline, matched with whatever insane intervention the _Tiocfaidh ár lá_ did to the boy and his mother has changed him, made him fulfill the prophesy of the Doorway! He can never be Bound; the threat must be eliminated before it destroys us all!"

"That's my _friend_ you're talking about, you son of a bitch!" Cordelia yelled right back. "He's a human being and we can't just kill him because—"

"That is no longer your friend!" Mathu said angrily. "_Look_ at him! The creature has taken him over, from the inside _and_ out! Listen to me – I understand, the boy is your friend and you do not want to hurt him." For the first time since she'd met the little worm she heard some feeling in his voice. "But believe me when I say that you would be doing him a kindness – the beast has taken him over from the inside out. If there is even the slightest chance that his soul is still alive in there he would be suffering immense pain as it was boiled away as the Stoírm killed it in order to control the body."

There was a resounding silence in the apartment.

"Mathu is right," Marie-Claire said after a moment. "There's almost no chance that Xander is even still alive within the confines of the body."

"But there is a chance, right?" Willow said after a moment.

"Yes," Marie-Claire said hesitantly.

"You guys keep a watch on him – keep the sleeping spell up," Willow ordered, her voice ringing with unusual authority. "Ms. Calendar, come with us," she tossed over her shoulder as she led her friends out of the apartment with her. Jenny looked up in surprise and, after a moment, hurried after them. Willow, still not talking, led them past Giles' kitchen so they could all crowd in to Giles' small bathroom.

Angelus and Drusilla both recoiled from the window and ended up crouching in the tub, which looked so ridiculous that Buffy was tempted to give into a fit of hysterical laughter that was threatening to bubble up inside of her. She resisted and sat down on the toilet. Willow stood near the window while Giles blocked the door. Oz, after a moment, took up position on Willow's left side, blocking the vampires in the tub from being able to touch her without getting past the werewolf first.

Angelus sneered at him, but froze when Cordelia, casual as anything, sauntered over and perched herself gracefully on the edge of the tub. Drusilla looked up hungrily but Cordy regally ignored her and began examining her nails, not a trace of fear anywhere, despite the fact that both vampires could smell it coming off of her. _She'd make one hell of a vampire,_ Angelus found himself thinking reluctantly.

Giles turned the lock in the door and murmured a few dusty, ancient words. The door made an odd squelching noise and the air seemed to grow a little tighter around all of them. "That will keep them from eavesdropping," he explained.

"I wouldn't be too sure," Jenny said softly. She was by necessity at the sink, uncomfortably close to Rupert. She was carefully not looking at any of them, unable to meet their eyes. Instead she turned to the mirror and traced a sigil onto the looking glass and murmured a few words of her own. The mirror turned a shocking shade of blue, an odd sort of ice, and then resumed its usual reflective properties. "Now they won't be able to see or hear."

Giles nodded to her, avoiding her eyes in turn. It was awkward, them being so close together again, and everyone in the bathroom felt it. Buffy couldn't help the small pang of guilt that went through her thinking of her part in adding to that awkwardness; instead she focused on the problem at hand. "Okay, Will – what are you thinking?" the Slayer asked.

"Well, from what we heard," Willow began, a little flustered now that all of their attention was on her (Cordelia was still inspecting her nails, looking mournfully at the one broken one on her pinky). "From what we heard," she started again, her voice a little stronger now, "the Binding Spell can't be used again. Whatever's in Xander's blood, Angel…did his thing and now that part of Xander's blood is awake, that's the way magic works – it can't be put back to sleep again."

"Of course not," Angelus said coldly. "Xander's immortal now."

There was a dead silence in the room, as if in a funeral; you could have heard a pin drop in the living room.

"_What_?" Buffy whispered, her voice dangerous.

"Didn't you listen to a word that the witch said out there, Slayer?" he snapped. "I Claimed Xander, and through that Claim he has been made immortal for as long as I exist."

"Which won't be for much longer," Giles snarled, stepping forward, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Oh, bring it on, Watcher," Angelus said contemptuously, itching for a fight.

"_Separate_," Willow's voice rang out coldly, and before anyone could say anything Angelus and Giles were moving, being pinned to opposite walls by invisible hands. It was clear that the spell was taking a toll on Willow, even more of a toll than her body could take at this point, but still she kept it up. "Let's review the facts. Xander is out there, his soul maybe dying as the thing that put the 'evil' in 'devil' takes him over. If the thing _does_ succeed in taking him over, then not only will all hell break loose but every human in here will die and every vampire on earth will likely be made into slaves, if they manage to not starve to death with all the humans dead.

"We have this _one_ chance to maybe fix all of this _without_ having to murder Xander, who everyone here cares about in one way or another. I do not have the time or the patience to deal with your two's pissing match. If you're done hosing down the bathroom with testosterone, I may have figured out a way to _do_ this. Now, _everyone shut up and let me finish!_" Her skin was pale, her eyes dark and angry, her hair seeming to glow an even brighter red. Her entire figure radiated authority and anger.

"We'll be good," Cordelia said meekly after a moment, staring up at Willow. The young witch visibly relaxed, some of the tension draining out of the room as Angelus and Giles were released from the holding spell.

"What did you have in mind, Willow?" Jenny asked.

"Do you guys remember when the cursed hyenas were shipped in to the Sunnydale Zoo?" Willow asked.

"Cursed hyenas?" Angelus asked, his eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face.

"Yeah," Buffy said with a sunny grin on her face. "They shipped in about a week after you killed your Sire." Angelus froze in rage at the memory, but he swallowed the anger as Willow turned a threatening glance at Buffy and then at him. He had no choice but to respect the witch's power; weak as he was he couldn't fight her.

"_In any case_," Willow said, "the hyenas were already prepossessed of demonic intelligence, a rare breed of predatory animals that had been imbued with magicks by humans called Primals. Xander was possessed by one."

"Yeah, so?" Buffy asked.

"Well, he's possessed _now_," Willow said, looking to Giles now. "I think that we have this one chance, while Xander's soul still has the potential to be alive, to attempt a trans-possession like the one we did then." She looked a little hesitant about the validity of the idea but Buffy was already staring up at her with hope.

"Willow…we had a night of research before we spoke to the zookeeper who finished out knowledge of how to complete that," Giles said gently. "We don't have time or even the right lunar phase to create a reversal of Angel's ritual."

"I know that," Willow said. "The key thing is that Xander's soul is alive inside of him – back then, you weren't so hot at spell casting and I hadn't even started training in witchcraft yet. Now you can help, we have Ms. Calendar with us to help me, and I can cast the spell that I have in mind!"

"What spell, Willow?" Jenny asked urgently.

"The _Tripudio d'Animus_," Willow whispered.

"No," Jenny said flatly, and she was echoed a moment later by Giles saying "Absolutely not!"

"Why not?" Angelus demanded. "That has more than a chance of actually working—"

"I understand that you have no regard for anyone's life but Xander's at the moment, but clearly you've forgotten the part of the spell wherein if there is even the slightest mistake made the person entering the other's soul is likely to die, leaving their body in a vegetative state for the res t of their lives," Giles snapped.

"What the hell are you guys _talking_ about?" Buffy demanded impatiently.

"The Dance of Souls," Drusilla said, her voice rising strongly, her eyes shining. "Open a door to the Doorway, the witch wants, call him out of his cage."

"What?" Cordelia asked irritably. "Speak English!"

"She wants to put the Slayer's soul together with Angel's demon and send them in to little Xander's possessed body so they can find his soul and exorcise the demon," Drusilla said, her voice ringing with a resounding 'duh.' They all stared at her. "I will be helping," Drusilla said calmly after a moment. "When do we start?"

"NO!" Giles snapped. "We can't risk—"

"What am I going to have to do?" Buffy asked, looking up at Willow.

"Buffy," Giles tried again. "This ritual almost _never_ works right – as weak as we all are it stands a very good chance of not only killing your soul but killing Willow, the primary caster, and even any who help her. We _can't_ go through with this half-cocked."

"What about me?" Angelus asked. "I don't have a soul to risk—"

"You stand a chance of being rejected by the Stoírm if we lose control of the spell. You'll either be murdered within Xander's body and your body will turn to dust, or you'll be magically ejected from Xander's body and your body will burn to ashes when your demon tries to reenter it," Jenny said flatly.

"Okay, so I think that we've all accepted that the risks are worth it," Cordelia said after a moment. When Giles raised his voice to protest she spoke over him, "or, we've accepted that no matter what anyone says Buffy and fang face over here are going to do it anyway. But there's another angle here that we all have to consider, no matter what."

"What?" Oz asked.

"What happens if this doesn't work?" Cordelia asked bluntly. "Willow said that we have this one window of opportunity, right? If this stunt doesn't get the job done, then what are we going to do? Not to mention that Willow isn't exactly running at full mojo right now."

"We'll do what we have to do," Buffy said quietly.

"Like _hell_," Angelus started with a vicious snarl.

"Yes, like _hell_," Buffy said sadly, not yelling at him, which stopped him. "If this stunt doesn't work, as Cordelia says, I'll be dead and so will you. There isn't anything left to say; we're the strongest here. It'll be left in the hands of Avalon, and they'll make sure that it's done right. Then Kendra will come up and take over the Hellmouth for me."

She said it without any emotion in her voice, just stating fact. She'd accepted it by now – one Slayer dies the next is called. She'd been faced with that fact when Kendra had first shown up in Sunnydale. When Xander had resuscitated Buffy after her brief death at the hands of the Master, no one had known that Buffy's death, even though it was only for about a minute or two, was enough to pass the Slayer legacy on to Buffy's successor. For the first time in all of existence, there was more than one Slayer on the face of the Earth. Kendra was a beautiful Jamaican girl with no last name; she had been given up by her parents to her Watcher when Kendra was a child to train as a Potential Slayer.

Although having her around had unnerved Buffy a great deal, it had also been something of a relief to know that should she ever lay down the mantle of the Slayer, she had a warrior as capable as Kendra to replace her. Kendra tended to fight by the book, without much imagination, she was still a very powerful, very dangerous warrior, and her first arrival in Sunnydale had led her to win a fight against Angel, nearly kill Buffy, successfully fight off Spike, and then kill an assassin from the Order of Terraka, which were no small feats.

"Buffy," Giles began softly.

"We're doing this, Giles," she said flatly. "It's _Xander_. You know as well as I do that if any one of us were in his position he'd already be doing this spell with or without our help. We'll do this, and if it doesn't work…then you guys will do the only thing that you _can_ do for any of us kill the demon that did this in the first place, and save the world."

"Alright," he whispered, refusing to look her way.

"I think the cheerleader had a point," Angelus said after a moment. They all stared at him. "Slayer and I can go another couple of rounds if we have to but the witch can barely stand. We're _going_ to do this but we need to make sure that the whole idea isn't a waste. Get someone else to cast the spell."

"We don't _have_ anyone else!" Willow said angrily. "Giles dabbled in magic before but this is going to take someone who's at least training for being a full-fledged witch!"

"The Gypsy was training for it on Avalon, wasn't she?" Angelus demanded, pointing at Jenny.

"I don't have near enough training, power or control to even try the Dance of Souls," Jenny refuted. "I can guide Willow in her efforts if she needs it and focus the power that she's going to summon, but being a funnel is about all I can promise."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Giles said, I can appreciate Angelus' point. We need someone who hasn't been through what Willow's been through, if we're really going to do this."

"Giles—" Willow began angrily.

"Willow, I am not saying that you're weak. What you've done up to this point demonstrates an extraordinary amount of power and talent waiting to be tapped within you – but they must be tapped at the right time," Giles said strongly. "Every witch, no matter how strong, needs to recharge, to ground themselves and regain their energies. You've been casting healing spells since last night, on to this morning, with only a slight sleep before you joined the fight against a demon overlord, put it into a magical sleep, shielded a spell from the Lady of the Lake…it's more than a wonder that you're still on your feet!"

"There may be something that I can do about that," Jenny said after a moment, her face tortured.

"What?" Buffy asked, not gently but not unkindly. She didn't know what she felt towards the Gypsy at this point, but it wasn't hatred. If anything, it was understanding – Jenny too had been forced to keep a secret, to hurt herself and her friends in order to fulfill her duty to her destiny. Buffy could relate all too well.

"It will require betraying all of my training and my teachers…" Jenny trailed off. "We'll go out there and announce our intentions. If they won't help us, then I'll cast the spell." Her voice was strong and sure, and for the first time since she'd walked into the apartment she freely met their eyes. She'd made her choice, once and for all – and she was standing with them.

"Thank you," Buffy said, and Jenny nodded gratefully.

"Very well," Giles said, and said the spell to unlock the door and break the protective silence around it. The envoy from Avalon was standing much as they had been before the Slayer's group had walked into the bathroom and held their council (there weren't many non-destroyed areas to sit on or in), and now they looked up, their eyes unreadable as Buffy and Angelus led the way in, side by side.

"Have you come to terms with your decision?" the Lady of the Lake asked after a moment. It was a loaded question; clearly she meant the decision to side with the Moon Coven and destroy the demon, but it had a hell of a hole in it that allowed Buffy to look at her with utter strength and resolution and say, "Yes, we have."

"Very well," the Lord of the Isle said, standing up and taking point, the Master and Mistress of the Guard behind him. Larana, the Seer, sat on the stairwell, her eerie blind eyes trained on them all, her expression dreamy. She didn't say a word, but Buffy had the feeling that the girl knew everything and more and for some reason was going to let them go through with their plan.

"We'll need you to follow our instructions—" Marie-Claire began, also moving into position.

"We've made our decision," Buffy said flatly, and she moved with her friends in V-formation behind her to stand like an arrow pointing straight at the Lord and Lady, blocking Xander's unmoving form from sight.

"You _must_ be _joking_," Mathu began, but Buffy moved her hand in a 'shut up' motion and the man fell into a shocked, sulky sort of silence at the blatant disrespect. But then, Buffy was the Slayer, at times a horrific job, she who gave up her life to stalk cemeteries, destroying the worst of this world, protecting humanity. Seventeen years old and this girl had prevented three apocalypses already, giving her life up for one of them. She had earned her right to expect a little respect from other mystical authorities.

"We're going to try something, and if our plan doesn't work, then we'll…we'll do everything to help you to kill the Stoírm," Buffy said.

"What plan, Slayer?" Marie-Claire asked. "Don't you realize that we aren't running on an infinite time schedule? This decision is hard for me too – not as hard as yours is but I care about Xander, too! You think I come here with _joy_ in my heart? No matter what happens here this day the demon will still have won a victory against us, will have taken something precious from us all. But I _know_ that I have _no_ choice but to do this thing!" The Lady of the Lake was practically shaking, her eyes like she was about to start crying, a polar opposite to the Lord of the Isle, who was practically radiating fury.

"We have enough time to try this," Giles said, and it relieved Buffy that he was still standing strong behind her in her decision. She loved Giles – at times the Watcher was more like a father to her than her own. But she also knew that he would rather see anyone else in the world hurt than his loved ones. If he truly thought that Xander was a lost cause he would have found a way for Buffy to not risk her life.

If he could have found a way to remove the burden of being the Slayer from Buffy's shoulders, he would have a long time ago.

"Try what?" Marie-Claire was asking in frustration now.

"_Tripudio d'Animus_," Giles said. The color drained from her face and she stood there, frozen and unable to speak for quite a pause.

"Are you _mad_?!" she hissed after the moment had passed. She looked like he'd gut-punched her without warning; even the rest of her group looked as shocked as a nun who'd heard her first curse word. "Are you _completely_ insane?! Do you even _realize_ how many of _our_ number have _died_ attempting that spell, at full health, under the right circumstances, in situations _less_ dire than this?! How the _hell_ do you expect to pull this off?" Her voice was growing thick with a French accent in her agitation.

Buffy paused. Apparently Willow hadn't been completely truthful with all of the risks involved with the spell – it was starting to sound utterly impossible.

"I'm going to cast it," Willow said, stepping forward bravely.

"You _have_ gone mad, Watcher!" Marie-Claire shrieked. "That you would even _allow_ this lunacy to enter into her head! Look at her! She has used more magical energy than I have ever seen in a girl her age and still be standing; she looks like a bird could kill her with a broken wing! She's barely more than a _novice_ and you would allow her to try the Dance of Souls?! I thought you a man of heart as well as mind, Rupert Giles; _clearly_ I was wrong," she finished off, cuttingly. Giles blanched for a moment and Buffy felt herself going red with rage.

"Don't you talk to him like that!" she said angrily, stepping forward. "And don't talk to Willow like she's a child! She's been through more than any of you in the last year and she's still standing, ready to do this for her friend. We've got _one_ chance to do this before we have to go to last resort and _murder_ someone we all love – are you going to help us or are you going to get the hell out of my way?" Buffy demanded, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"I would _help_ if I thought this fool's errand stood half a chance," Marie-Claire said. "I implore—no, I _beg_ you, Slayer: do not do this thing!"

"Sorry, Lady," she said blithely, unmoved. "Guess we're doing it on our own then."

"Janna, by the Oath of Allegiance to the Holy Isle, I command you to stop them at once," Mathu said flatly, his voice ringing with authority. And that simple phrase had the power to stop everything. Oaths sworn in magic were binding in more ways than one; to break one had the potential for horrific results. The Oath of Allegiance was the most sacred of these. It was the oath that Jenny had taken to obey the orders of the Moon Coven, and if she were to disobey those orders then she would be cast out of the magical world, less than nothing, not even considered a practicing witch.

It was, in some ways, all that she had left to her – Rupert certainly wasn't going to welcome her back with open arms any day soon. Her tribe was furious with her for allowing Angelus to break free, leading to the horrific death of her uncle Tomas. She still had nightmares about walking into his tiny hotel room to see his body, drained of blood, torn open and eviscerated, desecrated, with the words _WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU TOO?_ scrawled on the walls, a love note from Angelus.

She had nothing left _but_ her holy vows. She h ad been cast away from everything that gave her life meaning; even teaching had lost its joys when she was confronted with Willow, Buffy, Xander and Rupert every day of her professional life. She remembered the peace and solitude that you could find in the rich forests of Avalon. She imagined working one of the great earth magicks there, spinning herself into the woods, becoming a wood nymph, a dyad to live amongst the trees and know nothing but the calming pulse of the Mother and Father surging through her.

To forget. Some days, that was all she wanted.

"My name is Jenny," she said, her voice strong, allowing no uncertainty into it. Yes, she wanted to forget. But she couldn't. She wasn't a true Gypsy, never had been; when her uncle had came to her and demanded that she serve the purpose of vengeance even though innocent people would get hurt she'd been disgusted. Xander was an innocent and more, and she loved Rupert, more than she'd loved anyone in her life. Yes, her life was painful right now – but it was through that pain that she knew that she was _alive_, and in the end, _that_ was the greatest gift that she could ask of any god.

She had made her choice.

"Janna…you _can't_ do this." Marie-Claire's voice was reasonable, despite the fact that she looked like Jenny had slapped her. "You can't help them through with this insane plan!"

"I have to," Jenny said calmly. "I'll accept the consequences of my actions, milady, and I'm sorry that it's you I'm doing this to. But I have enough on my conscience without knowing that I could have helped save this boy and instead stood by and helped you kill him without trying."

"Very well," Mathu snarled, his fists clenched. "Speak not in our presence again, Gypsy. You've disavowed your oath to the God and Goddess, to—"

"I've disavowed my oaths to _you_, not to God," Jenny cut him off. She was breathing as fast as if she'd run a mile, her mind already whirring with the spell that she was about to perform, this forbidden spell. She felt Rupert's concern behind her and she was again washed in a calm surety of her love for the reserved Englishman, that she had made the right choice. She'd followed her heart, and that was the most she could do.

"It matters not," Mathu pointed out after a moment. "The Lady is correct in saying that you cannot perform this spell, novice, and none of Avalon will aid you. Your plan is doomed to failure before you start."

"I'll rip it out of you if I have to," Angelus hissed through his fangs. The vampire staggered to his feet, baring his fangs like an animal as he clenched his fists.

"You wouldn't _dare_, vampire," said the Lord of the Isle.

"He isn't wrong," Jenny said, a tear finally breaking from her trembling eyelashes to fall hot on her cheek. They really didn't have a chance against her spell, because the oath Willow had evoked from them prevented them from so much as defending against an attack, leaving them vulnerable to her attack. Jenny felt a wince of pain as her pupils dilated, a rush of warmth as the power of the earth shot through her body, leaving her weak as she gave into it. Too late they recognized her invoking posture; the Master and Mistress of the Guard futilely moved in front of their protectorates.

"_Lord of Earth and Lady of Fire_

_I call their power unto me_

_Cast their magic from soul's pyre_

_Through the air, wild and free!"_

Jenny gestured toward the Master and Mistress; simultaneously their legs buckled and their eyes rolled backward into their heads. The Mistress cried out in pain, briefly, and then she collapsed next to the Master, already unconscious. From their hearts an intense red light, flickering like fire but radiating pure _power_, rose, burning through the air. Then, it slammed into Jenny's chest with the power of a freight train. Screaming in pain, she vaguely felt herself hurled through the air as Rupert dove behind her and caught her before she fell.

"NO!" Marie-Claire was screaming, somewhere in that hazy background. But Jenny didn't hear her – in fact, she didn't feel much of anything just now but a sort of heated haze flickering through her awareness, tingling like electricity as her power banks soared past how much she could contain. Her senses shot out and she could _feel_ the imprints of everyone in the room, her mind shying away from the alien strangeness of Drusilla and Angelus (but Angelus _loved_ Xander, so strange and twisted and dark)—

To Buffy, a core of solid strength within a vulnerable girl close to breaking, to Rupert, full of light but tinged with darkness, battling a tendency toward darkness within, to Oz, so genuinely calm, a tranquil pool that rippled with love for Willow…and _Willow_, a beacon, a torchlight of pure magical power that made Jenny's breath catch in her throat (she'd never _dreamed_ that Willow could hold such power within her but it was there, Goddess, it was there); to Cordelia, strong and proud Cordelia with a pure heart, to Xander, faintly there but still a beacon of something like happiness on sunny days underneath a darkness so strong it made the bile rise in her throat.

It was enough. She lifted her hands and called on all the power within her body and shot a burning red flicker to Buffy, who screamed in utter agony as every bone in her body telekinetically smashed itself back into alignment and healed; to Angelus, who roared in pain as his demon fed on the power like blood, healing what it could and so hungry for more; little flickers to the others, who sighed as a sort of soothing heat healed little cuts, little exhaustions, not as bad as the Slayer, no, not as bad – and then there was the big rush, the enormous flame that seared into Willow's heart.

The young witch threw her head back and cried out—not in agony, no, not like Jenny—cried out in exultance, in utter pleasure as her feet slipped from the ground. "Willow!" Oz shouted, but there was a note in the air like a song as Willow's hair lifted from her head in a phantom breeze, the red haze of _magic_ encasing her body like flame as her eyes drifted closed. Drusilla's eyes were huge and dark with the Sight as she moaned, pointing at Willow, who finally, slowly, drifted back to the ground, standing tall, her aura radiating something fierce and strong and true. In the silence of the ruined apartment Willow opened her eyes, and they were glowing a deep crimson.

"Great Goddess," the Lady of the Lake whispered. Marie-Claire stood on shaky feet, trembling as Willow closed her eyes and sagged into Oz's arms. "Jenny, what have you done?"

"What I had to do," Jenny muttered faintly. Her body was still pulsing at the rush of magic and her muscles were so slack that she doubted she could stand. Rupert gently lowered her into a sitting position and moved her hair from her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers with concern as if they were in their own microcosm, cut off from the grand act of betrayal she had just committed.

"Check on Willow," she answered. He squeezed her hand and she had enough in her to be grateful for that before she shut her eyes.

"Is she okay?" Cordelia asked.

"She'll be fine after she wakes up," Giles answered. He took his glasses off and vaguely wiped them on his dirty shirt. "The spell that she performed was…incredibly forbidden. It's likely she'll be exiled from the magical world after that."

"As well she should, the traitor," Mathu rejoined. His lips were curled back in a sneer. Cordelia turned to Giles and cocked her eyebrow.

"So, he can't do anything magic-wise to me because of the thing that Willow did with the thing?"

"If I understand you correctly, no he can't," Giles answered, blinking.

"Cool!" Cordelia exclaimed brightly. Then she turned around and slammed her fist into Mathu's face. "Ow!" She shook her fist out and muttered mutinously as he stumbled back, clutching his nose.

"She bode my nobe!" the Lord forced out thickly.

"You deserved it – oh my God, I broke a nail!" Cordelia moaned.

"What just happened?" Willow stuttered. She blinked slowly and pushed herself a little away from Oz, standing on her own on shaky legs. "I feel like…I feel _great_!"

"Jenny ripped the magical energies of the guards and sent them to you – after healing the rest of us, somewhat," Giles explained.

"Oh," Willow said, chewing her lip. "Isn't that wrong?"

"To say the least," Marie-Claire cut in, her eyes blazing. "You insane plan has led one of Avalon's own to break one of the greatest of our laws – have you any idea the penalty for performing that spell?"

"With all due respect, you are not on Avalon any longer, Lady," Giles rejoined, his eyes flashing with steel and meeting her gaze head-on.

"No, and neither is she," Marie-Claire said after a moment. "Nor will she ever be allowed to set foot on the Holy Isle again for the rest of her days. However, as _Jenny_ is now incapacitated, I will take her place."

"Pardon?"

"I will lead the _Tripudio d'Animus_," she elaborated.

"Out ob de question!" Mathu exclaimed thickly, pinching his nose. "You are de Lady ob de Lake! You cand pud your _libe_ in danger bor dese bools!"

"I won't be," she told him. "I'll only be leading it. Every risk of the spell will rest on the witch casting it and the participants. We will accept your terms, Slayer, not that we have much choice at this point. I will do what I can to help the spell, and if and when it does not work, we will continue in our original objective."

"Fine," Buffy snapped. She bit down on her lip in an effort to not scream as she moved forward. Her entire body felt like long, thick needles were being driven through every nerve ending. She needed to sleep for about a week. Maybe two. And then eat lots and lots of chocolate.

"Before we begin, however, I'll make sure you understand what you're doing." Marie-Claire drew herself up regally, every inch the Lady of the Lake. Buffy felt like she was about to be on the receiving end of one of Giles' longer lectures.

"We don't have _time_—" Angelus began, stepping forward with his lips curled over his fangs, but the Lady held up a hand and narrowed her eyes.

"We'll _make_ time for this _fool's_ errand, vampire. I cannot use my magic on you, that's true, but there are thousands of strength and endurance tests the Lady of the Lake must pass before she's capable of handling the Great Magic. I will fight you, I _will_ win, and I will_ end_ you." Their eyes met, witch to vampire, and Angelus paused. There was a genuine core of strength in this woman, a fire and steeliness to her eyes that made him think twice about taking her up on her challenge. Finally, he lifted a hand, a king acquiescing her to continue. She smirked insultingly at his attempt at regaining the upper hand and deliberately turned her back to him, as if to say _I have no need of fearing _you_ at my back_. His fists clenched.

"The Dance of Souls is an ancient enchantment conceived centuries ago, allowing one person to merge their essence with another person's. This was usually for the purpose of healing or to extract vital information, but always in an extreme situation such as this," she began, her voice slightly hoarse after the hours of talking she'd already performed this morning. "As any who have studied magic already know, there exist myriads of ways to join minds, but the Dance of Souls is different. It joins the _essences_, the true _souls_ of the people it includes in the spell.

"This is extremely dangerous, for obvious reasons. Should anything happen to your Soul-Self during the spell, your body will retain the damage. Should your Soul-Self be lost during the spell, your body will remain in a permanent vegetative state without a soul within to animate it. And should your Soul-Self die during the spell, or have something go wrong while extracting or retracting your soul, you will die, instantly and painfully."

"Fun," Buffy said gamely. "When do we start?"

"Don't be stupid," Angelus said. "You can't do this."

"Why not?" Buffy demanded, wheeling around.

"You're the Slayer," he elaborated. "Whatever happens after this, you're the only one that's going to be able to handle it. They're going to need you undamaged."

"And when the hell did _you_ start caring about whether or not I live or die?"

"I don't," he said simply. "But if you were hurt in this and Xander woke up he'd blame himself." Buffy looked away from him, but not before he saw the hurt flash across her face.

"So who do you suggest do this, then?" Giles asked.

"Me," Angelus said. "Obviously. I don't have a true soul to risk, and the spell needs to be cast on someone Xander is…_close_ to." His voice dripped innuendo.

"You _bastard_," Giles snarled, starting forward with his fists raised.

"Giles, _stop_," Willow said. "We don't have time for this!"

"Both of them are going to do it," Jenny said tiredly, pushing herself to a sitting position. Every bone in her body felt leeched of strength; she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep – but she didn't have the time for that luxury. Everyone stared at her. "The spell's never been performed on more than two people, so there's more chance of success. Also, none of us trust that you didn't do this to Xander on purpose, so that way Buffy can make sure you're not causing more damage than you already have. You're both going to be in there, so that means you'll have to work together if you want to get out."

"It's as good a plan as any, where this spell is concerned," Marie-Claire conceded. "Watcher, do you have any supplies left?" She surveyed the destroyed apartment.

"Yes, in the chest," Giles said. "What do you need?"

"Candles, of any kind, a cord, some oil, and a ritual blade," she said. "Jenny, can you draw the Circle of Psyche around them?"

"Yes," Jenny nodded, struggling to her feet. Rupert rushed forward gallantly to help her up, and she gave him a smile as she brushed him away. He looked hurt but there was nothing she could do about that. It was time to learn to stand on her own two feet. She went to fetch the chalk from Giles' cache of magic supplies.

"I thought Psyche was the goddess of soul mates," Willow said.

"That part was only tacked on as part of her marriage to Eros," Marie-Claire said distractedly as she started going through the supplies Giles was giving her. "Psyche is the patron goddess of all things to do with the human soul."

"What do we do?" Angelus asked.

"Strip," the Lady instructed.

"_Excuse_ me?" Buffy asked.

"I need to perform the fastest purification ritual I can think of and for that I need you naked; now _strip_!" Marie-Claire commanded impatiently. Angelus sighed and started shrugging his clothes off without much fuss. Buffy looked around in embarrassment as Giles and the others averted their gazes. She glared at Angelus.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, Buff," he offered cheerfully as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, unbuckling his belt. Her cheeks burned with rage and humiliation as she jerked away from them. Giles made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but he didn't say anything.

Once they'd stripped, Marie-Claire sprinkled salt over Buffy. "In the name of the God and Goddess, I purify this girl – may she bring only light, strength, and power to the spell." Buffy felt as if her skin was tingling and she fought the urge to start scratching her skin. Marie-Claire, meanwhile, moved on to Angelus. "In the name of the God and Goddess, I purify this vampire – may he bring only strength, power, and clarity to the spell." The salt, where it hit Angelus' skin, made a sizzling noise and he growled in pain as angry red welts rose from where the purification spell had struck him; his demonic face rippled away the illusion of humanity and he bared his teeth.

Oz was holding Willow's hand as they stared into each other's eyes, whispering to each other as they thought of the possible parting that was to come. The scene was too intimate, so Giles looked away to see Cordelia staring at Xander's form determinedly.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I'm remembering Xander like this," Cordelia said quietly. "I want…I _need_ to remember him like this, in case this doesn't work and they have to…and I have to lose him."

"It's going to work. Buffy won't allow it to _not_ work," Giles said flatly.

"I wish I had your faith," she said simply, and turned away, but not before Giles saw the tears shimmering in her eyes that she would not allow to fall. Cordelia was far too proud for that. He knew that she would hold it together, perhaps better than Buffy herself, until the end of this nightmare. Once again he found himself astounded at the depth of Cordelia's strength that she almost never revealed.

"We need to begin now," Marie-Claire said calmly, but Drusilla, silent all this time, stepped forward.

"I will be helping," she said calmly.

"You're insane," Marie-Claire pointed out reasonably.

"And you're a Wiccan," Drusilla said brightly. "You can't work with demonic essences. I can, and the stars whisper to me what must be done. I will guide Daddy through his journey."

"Milady, we can't trust—" Mathu began, clenching his fists.

"We don't have a choice," Marie-Claire bit off coldly. "Do you honestly know what to do with him?" She gestured at Angelus. Drusilla nodded calmly, every inch the queen. "Very well. I'll follow your lead when it comes to the vampire."

"He must sit at Little Brother's heart," Drusilla said. "The Slayer must sit at his head."

"The two seats of the human soul," Marie-Claire nodded. "Why not the other way around?"

"Because he loves Xander," Buffy said quietly. She stood, crossing her arms to shield herself, looking not so much like a child as the chaste goddess of the hunt, distant and removed from everything around her. "It'll help him get a foothold in the spell."

"Yes," Drusilla said, nodding approvingly as if Buffy was a student answering a teacher's question correctly. "And the Slayer is his best friend, while the little witch is his other best friend. He needs every anchor that he can get."

Something unreadable and not easily understood in that moment passed through Buffy and Angelus when their eyes met. Oddly, he looked away first. Giles longed desperately to gather his Slayer into his arms and let her cry, but he knew that she couldn't allow that. She needed to be strong. For that, he hated Angelus even more. Willow, meanwhile, gripped Oz's hand as tightly as she could, and he kissed her gently, his love an anchor to everything she held dear. But she forced herself to let go, to give him one last brave smile. And then she turned away and went to help. She knew Oz's eyes would never leave her, the brave young werewolf protecting her to the last.

"Sit cross-legged. Close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible," Marie-Claire said as they directed the two to their positions. Marie-Claire took the candles that Giles had procured and set them in a circle as Willow drew a circle around the candles with chalk. Drusilla took the chalk from Willow and began tracing arcane symbols around it as Marie-Claire cut strips of cord. The first she tied from Buffy's wrist to Xander's, the second from Angelus' to Xander's, and the third she tied from Buffy's arm to Angelus', forming a rough triangle tying the three together.

"Alright. It's time to begin. Willow, are you ready?" Marie-Claire asked. Willow nodded determinedly. Drusilla moved and stood behind Angelus as he sat on the floor to the left of Xander, closest to his heart; Buffy sat to the right, closer to his head – the two seats of the human soul. Willow stood at Xander's feet, her feet spread, her hands crossed in front of her in the spellcaster's position. Marie-Claire moved to Buffy's side, creating on oddly shaped circle within the confines of the Circle of Psyche Jenny had invoked on the floor.

"What I'm going to do now is join a small portion of my mind with yours – to give you a sort of knowledge of how to perform the spell. Meanwhile, everyone not involved needs to stay outside of the Circle for the duration of the spell…no matter what you might see or hear. Do you understand?" She glanced around the room. Mathu nodded tersely and Laurana, the Seer, kneeled next to the groggy guards and nodded serenely. Giles, Jenny, Cordelia and Oz all nodded, but Oz sent Willow a look loaded with meaning. Willow smiled gently at him and turned her attention away.

"Begin," Marie-Claire said softly, and breathed out. A breath of wind whispered through the room, filled with the scent of apples. Willow felt a sensation, as if her mind was being brushed by a butterfly from a distant land. She closed her eyes and opened herself to the sensation. The Lady of Avalon's mind was a foreign thing, filled with light and magic that Willow could barely dream of. She gasped, caught in the feeling of the magic as it moved around her, shifting the air like currents. As soon as she was open, though, a dark force, beautiful and stately as a raven's flight, touched the joined light of Willow and Marie-Claire's minds.

_Drusilla_, Willow thought, and though she couldn't explain how, the darkness agreed. Her breath caught as she suddenly felt a splinter of the dark vampire's madness, a startling gasp of pain and rage and sorrow and hatred and also a calm serenity that encompassed the splintered pieces of a mirror that was Drusilla's mind, one that Angelus had so cruelly shattered so long ago. Willow was surprised that a small darkness within her responded to that part of Drusilla, allowing them to work in synchronicity. Marie-Claire obviously disapproved, but it would work for the spell.

Willow took another deep breath and thought, _ignite_. The candles around the circle sparked, burst into flame. She sensed Giles take a startled step backward, but the Circle's energies began to build like a cauldron around her. There was nothing left but the magic.

"As above," Marie-Claire began, dipping her finger in the rose oil and tracing arcane figures on Buffy's chest and forehead.

"So below," Drusilla finished, tracing the same figures on Angelus' brow and chest. The oil shimmered in the flames, smoke rising to create a sort of incense that carried with it the scent of burning roses – _magic_. Willow breathed it in and felt a surge of wild power flowing through her, absently felt it as her feet left the floor, her hair blowing in a phantom wind. She felt the dark knowledge of Drusilla melding in the back of her mind with Marie-Claire's magical knowledge, and she drew on this now, joining them all together in the Circle, focusing all the energies on the Xander/Stoírm's enchanted form within the ruins of the apartment.

A silvery glow emanated from the candles, rising in an ethereal mist that drifted towards everyone in the Circle. _No_, Willow thought, and her psychic form directed the mist toward Buffy, Angelus and Xander, leaving Marie-Claire and Drusilla outside the sphere of its influence. Buffy gasped as the warm mist drifted over her skin, and Willow felt Angelus' psyche start to fight it off. She sent a soothing tendril of magic over him and he slowly relaxed as the Mists of Psyche penetrated his mind. The enchantment had begun.

"_By spirit and soul I invoke thee,_

_Power of the great goddess Psyche_

_Let your power fly within this Circle_

_Grant those who seek to journey their request_

_Within the Circle lies one lost to thee_

_A soul overtaken by the king of the damned_

_Let the fires of the Circle rise to their greatest heights_

_Send their souls unto their flights!_"

Willow threw her arms wide as the Circle sealed itself off from the rest of the living room in a blinding flash of light; winds flew from it and knocked Giles, Cordelia and Mathu off their feet. The light crossed around like heavenly fire, emanating a song, a chant, a whisper that sounded like Greek but was nothing that Giles could make out. He stared in awe through the lights at Willow, hovering above the ground, directing the power as a conductor would a symphony. The light touched Willow's fingertips and shot from their like the arrows of Eros and hit Buffy and Angelus in the heart.

They cried out simultaneously as the light bore out something silvery and beautiful from Buffy and a darkness so cold and horrifying from Angelus that Cordelia gasped and backed away – the essence of the demon. At the core of Buffy's essence Giles saw that self-same darkness reflected, and he shuddered at the affirmation of the dark knowledge of the Slayer's origins. But there was no time for reflection, for the song, the power-chant of Psyche had reached its fever pitch and Buffy and Angelus' essences swirled around the Circle like birds in flight. Drusilla threw her head back and cried out in something akin to ecstasy as Marie-Claire looked frankly terrified.

The figures circled around each other in a timeless dance until Willow conjured a thread of blood-red light from her fingers and directed it straight to Xander's heart. The essences swirled once more in a brilliant tornado and then plunged directly into Xander's being.

Like marionettes cut from their strings, Buffy and Angelus' bodies hit the floor. Willow remained in the air as Marie-Claire and Drusilla slumped, trembling. The lights of the Circle slowly receded in brilliance but maintained a steady shield from the rest of the world. "It's done," Marie-Claire said. Her voice sounded almost as if she were speaking underwater, slow and removed from the rest of the world. "Now it is up to them."

Giles held Jenny in his grasp as Cordelia, exhausted, collapsed against a wall, her eyes on Xander. Oz kept his gaze on Willow, ever her protector. Mathu stood, glaring like a hawk as he fixed his eyes on the magic in front of him, while Laurana sat, divinely calm, with the unconscious guards. "Now it is up to them," the blind girl repeated, but no one heard her in the midst of the loudest silence any of them had ever experienced.

**A/N:** So, there you have it – the first new chapter of _the Passion of Angels and Demons_ that I've been able to churn out for quite some time! Be expecting the next new chapter soon!

See ya!

_PyroPadawan_


	24. XXI: The Passion of Angels and Demons

**A/N:** Alright, I'm still not entirely sure if I'm satisfied with how fast this chapter goes, but I've been working up to this chapter for quite a while, so maybe that's just how it goes. In any case, I'm working on the next chapter but I'm planning on posting the next chapter of my other ongoing _Buffy_ fic, _Winter Song_ first. It shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is up, however.

**Also, to those of you who haven't noticed yet, I've completely redone Chapter I and Chapter II, both of which needed some serious editing and updating. I might redo the Balcony Scene chapters, but I haven't decided yet. In any case, just to point out to you, it might behoove you at some point to re-read the first two chapters.**

_Credit where it's due:_ I listened to the album _Visual Audio Sensory Theater_ by VAST, as well as _Fallen_ and _The Open Door_ by Evanescence while writing this chapter.

And so, without further ado:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XXI

_The Passion of Angels and Demons_

"Where are we?" It seemed the most pertinent question to ask, anyway. Buffy turned and surveyed her surroundings.

She and Angelus (thankfully clothed) were standing on what appeared to be a mesa in the midst of the desert. The sun, if it could be called that, was burning so bright that it lit up the entire sky. There was nowhere safe to look. Angelus looked so pale in the light that he could have been a ghost – but she realized he would have looked like that anyway. There was a pale, unearthly luminescence around him, something that demarcated that he wasn't entirely _here_ – wherever here was. She looked down at herself and realized that she looked exactly the same way.

"This must be…inside Xander's mind," Angelus said, looking around. He was dressed in black leather pants and nothing else, and he instinctively raised an arm to shield himself form the cruel sun. He was wearing his vampiric face, and he tried to shift back. "I can't change my face," he said, raising a hand to feel the ridges of the demon. His fingers were claws, and he realized that more spikes and bumps had raised themselves along his arms – and was that a _tail_ he felt lashing behind him in agitation?!

"It's what's inside of you," Buffy said. "You're…a pure demon, or as close as a vampire can get – that's the demon living inside your body."

The Slayer, on the other hand – she was shining brightly. Buffy's skin was pale and her lips darkly colored, her hair spun like gold, her eyes a clear, arctic blue. She wore a white shirt that clung to her form, enhancing her breasts and showing off her muscular midriff, and a flowing white skirt. She looked like a goddess, and Angelus was stunned to feel a stirring of that old attraction. There was a part of him, however small, that at that moment longed for nothing more than to feel her writhing in pleasure underneath him as he once had, that night so long ago that had changed everything.

He turned away from her, profoundly disturbed. If this was his true demonic self, as Buffy suggested, then why was he not already turning on the Slayer, tearing her to shreds, or even raping her as part of him longed to do? Could it be his connection to Xander's mind, the morality of the boy creating an echo of the loathed soul he'd once been cursed with? His fists clenched in fury at the thought of it.

"What do you suggest we do now?" he asked through gritted fangs.

"We look for Xander." She stated the obvious, and turned and headed off through the shifting sands without waiting to see if he was keeping up. Spitting out a curse, Angelus headed off after her. However, they'd both miscalculated their own strength; Buffy's astral self had boosted her Slayer's speed and she was already half a mile away from him. However, Angelus' bound had sent him straight into the air to land not too far away from her.

His humiliation only added to his rage, and he vowed to track down this Stoírm creature and destroy it for everything that he'd dared to put Angelus through – Angelus _and_ Xander. Both determinedly not looking at each other, the Slayer and her greatest nemesis set off into the endless desert, each direction as desolate as the next.

***

Buffy didn't know when she'd started noticing it. It wasn't an immediate thing, like changing a TV channel; it was more like a fade-out in the old black-and-white movies her mother loved. One minute they were in the middle of the desert, and the next it had sort of faded and they were heading toward…was that Xander's house?

"That's his house!" she said excitedly, heading for it. Angelus clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, stopping her short. "What?" she snapped.

"Stop to _think_, Slayer," he hissed through his fangs. "Xander's been possessed. We have no idea what we're going to find in there."

"The Stoírm is knocked out," she reminded him. "That's why they said this could work, remember?"

"You go first, then," he offered.

"Ever the gentlemen!" She sneered at him coldly and then headed for the property. The sky had turned from blinding light to stormy grey, and the clouds seemed to be tinged with red, as if…_magic_, she realized. She could smell it in the air – not the burning-roses smell of Willow's spells, but the charge of burning ozone that she'd come to associate with powerful demonic magic.

"I don't recognize this memory," Angelus said from behind her.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Xander's mind is…joined, in a manner of speaking, to mine," he explained as he surveyed the lawn. "Whatever this is, he doesn't remember it."

"Xander can't handle remembering anything," said a scornful voice from behind them, and they both spun around in shock. There, in the back door, was Xander – a child Xander, but unmistakably _Xander_. But there was something…_off_ about him, a chill to his appearance that Buffy couldn't put her finger on.

"He's always running away from everything and cracking stupid jokes just 'cuz he's too _weak_ to actually _do_ anything about it," the child continued, his voice oddly mature (_and fairly freaksome_, Buffy thought) and cynical for a boy his size. "He doesn't want to remember how he made the bad man go away, so he doesn't."

"What bad man?" Buffy asked. The little boy gestured imperiously toward the wood and suddenly they were all there, in a clearing, and Buffy and Angelus and Xander were watching child-Xander and a man that looked like Xander's father struggling against one another.

"Sweet ol' uncle Jack," the Xander beside them spat as he surveyed the memory.

"Oh my god!" Buffy whispered in horror as the man reached for his belt buckle. Before she could stop herself, she was running for the image, ready to tear the man apart with her bare hands if she needed to. She'd never willfully murdered a human being before but she could feel the hunger for it boiling in her blood.

She passed through the pair with a tingling sensation on her skin. She turned around and saw the horrific childhood memory play on without interruption.

"She's not too bright for a Slayer, is she?" Xander asked Angelus with malice in his eyes. "This is a memory. You can't change memory – no matter how much people try to." There was something else behind the bitterness of his voice there, but she couldn't pursue it. Instead she watched as the weather roared in Xander's rage and suddenly she, Angelus and Xander were standing back in the backyard, staring at the smoky ruins of the wooded glade where Jack had attempted to rape Xander so long ago. "He deserved what he got," Xander said behind her in satisfaction.

"Who _are_ you?" Buffy demanded.

"I'm Alex," said the boy. "I'm the part of Xander that he can't remember. But that's not really his fault. I just can't stand him." 'Alex' flashed a bright Xander-smile and her heart twisted.

"Why can't Xander remember you?" Angelus asked. "Why can't he remember this?"

"Well, part of him doesn't want to – but that part had a little help. That friendly little summer school we got sent to, that lovely little island…they like to play with your head. They think they have all the answers, when they really haven't got a clue what they're doing. Like little kids playing with matches: they think they can control the fire but they always get burned in the end – _she's_ too stupid to realize what she's doing."

"Marie-Claire?" Buffy asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"The Lady of the Lake." Alex's lips twisted contemptuously, another of his seemingly endless mood swings. "You think she's there to help you but she just wants to control you, too – get in your head, make you _do_ things…"

"Avalon," Angelus said, trying to keep up with the dizzying mentality of the boy…creature before them.

"Avalon," Alex whispered, turning his head away. "You just can't say the name without that little mix of pleasure and pain," he sing-songed.

"Do you know what's happened to you?" Angelus asked.

"Of course I know," he said, annoyed. "You think I'm stupid?" His eyes flashed from resentment to anger in a dizzying whirl, and the sky around them swarmed. "You're just like them – you think I can't control myself! Well, watch _this_!" And the skies bowed to him as lightning jumped from cloud to cloud in a dizzying display of pyrotechnics as the wind swirled around them and flames burst into life from the lightning in the air. Alex held out his hand and the fire swirled toward him, dancing merrily in his palm. He turned to them with a smile on his face.

Buffy, acting on a hunch, smiled brightly and said "That's awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Alex asked eagerly, preening as he crushed the fire as easily as he had created it in the first place. Angelus managed to look as utterly unnerved as Buffy felt, but she had more of a clue about what had just happened – Alex was trying to impress them. He'd been locked in the background of Xander's mind for so long that this…part of him had never really progressed past childhood. The part of Xander that controlled his power was like an animal, really – primal passions, switching from joy to rage in the blink of an eye.

Angelus, following her lead, nodded eagerly, and Alex blushed. Buffy felt a swirl of pain as she recognized the childish signs of a crush; whatever part of Xander that was…_with_ Angelus was as much a part of Alex as it was of him. She ruthlessly crushed her own hurt feelings. This wasn't about her or her pain, this was about saving _Xander_.

"Can you help us?" Angelus asked gravely, kneeling next to the boy. Alex looked at the monster that was Angelus' true form without a hint of fear or revulsion in his gaze.

"Of course I can. I can take you to find _me_." He held out his hand, and Angelus slowly took it, and his claws seemed to bother the boy not at all. They set off without her, and Buffy didn't say a word to call their attention to the fact that the Slayer easily followed both of them. She preferred to save her strength for whatever waited for them on the other side of…whatever was waiting for them.

She smirked as Angelus' tail coiled in nerves and kept walking.

***

_The darkness had been blissful, really, compared to the flames of before. Now, though, light was beginning to break through the cracks of wherever the heck he was, and he was drinking it in the way a drunk threw back a shot of vodka. It illuminated a dark, shadowy place – an in-between place, not the flames but not too far away from them. Maybe whatever had tossed him in the flames in the first place had lost interest._

_Maybe Buffy had kicked his ass. Now _there_ was a blissful thought._

_He felt a pang of nostalgia for the good ol' days of the Scooby Gang, when it was just him and Buffy and Willow and Giles, trooping into the Library to look up the newest creature feature. That was before Buffy had died and he'd brought her back, before…Angel, really, and that was where it all boiled down to. Angel had changed everything, no matter if he'd meant to or not._

_God, Willow…his oldest friend, next to Jesse. He missed Willow so much at that moment. He'd give anything for another chance to see her roll her eyes at one of his jokes, or try to hide her exasperation when she was helping him with math. Math! There was an odd thing to think about when he was by himself in this dark place, but then maybe it wasn't math that he missed so much as school, and skipping school, and his friends and homework and all the _normal_ things that had made up his life until…this craziness._

_Xander watched the cracks growing with apprehension, afraid that it meant that _he_ had woken up as well. He didn't want to go back to the fire…_

***

Alex glanced back again as if to make sure that Angelus was following. The vampire was trying to keep his grip over the situation, but the truth was he was close to his breaking point. With more than two centuries of life to his name, Angelus had thought that there was nothing that could shake him, but he had been proven wrong time and time again since Xander had forced his way into his un-life.

Since then, Angelus had spun dangerously out of control, and even he could see it. He'd alienated his family, driven the Slayer to a dangerous breaking point, lost most of his clan. These were all things that he should have been able to keep well within the realms of his control. Instead, Xander had taken over all of his attention to the point of the exclusion of all else. He was a _vampire_, damn it, and not just any common vampire! He was the demon Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, most hated and feared of any vampire! He should be _rejoicing_ at the thought of the Elementals returning to the mortal realms!

Instead, he was risking his entire existence in a desperate gamble (in collusion with the Slayer herself, no less!) just to save his Cruor Aduro – and in so doing, save the world from the coming Armageddon. Darla would have staked him by now, and he would have deserved it. Instead, he'd killed his own Sire just to prove his love for the Slayer. Now, Angelus had to wonder how much of that act was purely the human soul, or how much of it had been driven by the demon within. He knew now that somehow, without a shadow of a doubt, he would happily watch Darla burn to death if it saved Xander's life.

He had time to be somewhat amused at his own reaction to his demonic self – not so much pride as irritation. One of his own faults was his vanity, which he knew, but he had been named 'The One with the Angelic Face' by the Watchers' Council for a reason. That part of him left over by that selfish, drunken dullard Liam he had once been in that filthy Irish back alley was in love with his own appearance. Then again, given how Liam's father had abused and despised him, the mortal had had little else to take pride in.

He shook himself slightly and tried to force his mind away from the paths of introspection. It had been a long time since he'd lost himself to thought of his mortal past, and he knew that it was Xander's connection with him. Since arriving in this place he'd felt their bond growing, could feel Xander's being singing through his mind, telling him that they were close to his Claimed.

Angelus took stock of their surroundings in an attempt to distract himself. They'd gone from the desert to the Harris house, and from there they'd crossed through ocean water without getting wet, and were now moving through what appeared to be a misty forest, dead silent as if haunted. The path they were following appeared to be going uphill, but there was no way to tell; physical sensation was dampened in this astral form and he couldn't appreciate the struggle of walking uphill.

Behind him, Buffy walked on, stoic and uncharacteristically silent. But then, he'd seen much out of the Slayer these past days that was so unlike the Buffy he'd thought he'd know so well. She'd reached all of her emotional limits, and much of that was his own fault. Somehow, however, he didn't feel the usual swoop of pleasure at that thought, like he had with Drusilla. The problem was that he couldn't tell if his…_displeasure_ at her pain was his own or Xander's, lingering in his mind.

He fought the urge to sigh. Things just weren't simple anymore. When he'd first awoken to his life as a vampire, Darla had unleashed him on Galway, let him wreak whatever vengeance he would. He'd derived such pleasure, such _satisfaction_ from the mortals' deaths, at the thrill of causing not just physical pain like some dumb animal. He'd found such artistic _relish_ in the pain in their eyes when they saw him, the horror and the fear. It had made the blood even sweeter in his mouth, so strong and passionate.

He'd suffered his first defeat there as Darla had mocked him over the dead body of his father. But he'd found from her that greater pleasure in the build-up to that pain, in the game that they grew to perfect after that. He and Darla had cut a horrific swathe of torture through Europe for years after that, rejecting the Master in their pride and their demonic beauty. Then she'd shown him Drusilla, his greatest masterpiece.

The gypsy curse had ruined everything. He'd finally been given a window to return that hinged on the _Slayer_ granting him a moment of perfect happiness! After a century of _he_, the great Angelus, feasting on rats in alleyways and shying from humanity out of guilt and shame! The humanity that infected every vampire had grown in this time, and now he'd bridged his mind to Xander. He wasn't nearly the demon that he had once been; he'd been brought low by _love_, that most wretched of human emotions that plagued vampires – hell, look at Spike and Drusilla!

Angelus looked ahead, refusing to look back at Buffy and see any more to make him feel…_human_. Enough of this – he was the powerful, the immortal! But ahead of him he stopped short at the sight of Alex, that strange creature, so much _Xander_ and so _foreign_, looking back at him with eyes full of hope and admiration, those large puppy eyes that Xander would give him sometimes when they would wake up together and that was how he knew the boy was happy—

Alex's smile turned from Xander's happy grin to a smirk, and there was a coldness there that made Angelus almost…wince? He'd fought so hard to awaken the demon within Xander, and now that he was confronted with it he wished more than ever for his sweet Xander, his boy, back in his arms where he belonged. When Alex turned around to continue walking, the mists around them grew deeper, and Angelus was hit with the knowledge that that was Alex's doing, a bid to impress Angelus – casually reaching out and exciting the molecules in the air around him to shimmer into moisture, upsetting this surreal plane they were trapped in even more.

He was afraid of Alex. The boy-demon-thing reminded him of Drusilla's most horrid creations, a creature that was forbidden by most of the older vampire clans that had survived long enough to remain clans (such as the Brethren of Aurelius, the Master's old coven): Drusilla had sired a vampire child.

The thing's name had been Rose, in life. She was a little French girl that they'd found in their travels through Europe, before they'd met Spike. Darla had been horrified and demanded that Rose be killed immediately, but Drusilla had guarded her fiercely and Angelus had been amused enough to allow it. Rose was deliciously evil, utterly insatiable and selfish and demanding. In the end, she'd nearly killed them all. She'd been a demon trapped within a child's mind, given to all the rapid mood shifts, selfishness and hungers of all children. Rose had incited the entire town they'd been staying in to come at them with pitchforks and torches, and Angelus had barely gotten his coven out before the humans had killed them all.

Alex was even worse – a child given vast powers. What was to stop him from using them on whatever he wanted? A child who could reach out with his mind and pluck the materiel of the universe itself like an orchestra, calling the fires of the heavens without effort? He had done something like that merely to impress Angelus. What was Alex's plan? How did he fit in to Xander?

Tortured by his own thoughts, Angelus decided to simplify things. He _felt_ for Xander in a way that he'd never felt before, not even for the Slayer when he'd been cursed with the soul. He would do anything to keep him, and that was just the way it was. He'd fight for _his_ Xander, no matter what it cost him. He owed it to him for putting the boy through this, even by accident.

***

_Xander was standing at the edge of a precipice into nothing. The air beneath him was solid, though he wasn't sure how. He was normally bothered by heights but he felt too drowsy to be afraid. If anything, he could stand here at the edge of nothing and be fine. It was peaceful up here with his thoughts and nothing else. Here was…where _was_ here?_

"_My many-times-great-grandson," the voice whispered from behind him. He turned but there was nothing there. It was just him, here in the wind, supported by nothing. That voice had been whispering to him before, hadn't it? Why couldn't he _think_? "It is time for you to let go."_

"_Why?" Xander asked. "Why should I let go?" He sounded petulant, even to himself, but damn it he had too much that he wanted to _do_, too many people he wanted to see again. He was losing his calm, his focus – it seemed desperately important, somehow, to tell this voice exactly where to stuff it._

"_You've already lost, Alexander. I am sorry that it had to be this way."_

"_What do you mean? What have you done to me?" Xander demanded, but there was no answer. It was just him, here in the wind, supported by nothing._

***

Could she do it? If this failed and she escaped with her life, could she _kill_ Xander?

It was a question that Buffy had been asking herself ever since they'd left the bathroom, her and her troupe fighting so hard for Xander's life. At the time she'd said 'yes' to herself. She had told herself that her duties as the Slayer were more important than her feelings, something she'd been telling herself since the debacle with Angelus had started. She knew intellectually that the Lady of the Lake's response was logical. It was a cold, murderous logic, but one that she could understand: the Stoírm was likely one of the greatest dangers the human race had ever faced, and Xander was the key to that danger. They had tried binding him from it before, and it hadn't worked. The next step was to remove the danger.

It was a step that Kendra would have taken without hesitation. Kendra (who had no last name, according to her) was the girl who'd become the Slayer after Buffy's death at the hands of the Master. Buffy had met her during a particularly terrifying time in Sunnydale when Spike had called out the Order of Teraka upon her, a league of the world's deadliest assassins. Neither Buffy nor Kendra had had a clue of the other's existence, and they'd nearly killed each other after Kendra had spied Buffy kissing Angel, a vampire.

Kendra was every inch the Slayer that Buffy wasn't. Kendra had been trained as a potential Slayer by her watcher, Roger Zabuto, since her infancy. The beautiful Jamaican girl had no memories of her parents. All she knew was duty. She had no friends, she had no family, she had no romantic attachments. Her entire world had been honing herself to become the most dangerous weapon against the underworld that she could possibly become.

In truth, Kendra had freaked Buffy out with her constant soldier's ready. The girl hadn't thought for herself, which had been one of her weaknesses. She followed the Slayer's Handbook to a T, earning herself shiny stars from the Watchers' Council, who Buffy was beginning to suspect were a bunch of bastards, if their origins were anything to go by.

Kendra would mourn for Xander's death as a loss to the darkness, but she would have done her duty and beheaded him the moment Marie-Claire had finished her story. Buffy almost envied Kendra her belief that the entire world was split into black and white. Kendra couldn't see the grey areas that Buffy saw. She wouldn't be able to see that Oz was a wonderful human being those days that he wasn't a werewolf, and she wouldn't be able to see Xander for the great friend and bastion of support that he was to her. She'd only see the werewolf and the half-demon. She'd only do her duty.

Buffy couldn't do that, though; Buffy wanted to _live_, not just to be the Slayer. But was this turmoil worth it? She'd gone through so _much_ with Angel, or Angelus, she thought that she would shatter. Now, she knew that she wouldn't break, she'd just end. She, Buffy, would die, and the Slayer would be all that she could be. If she had to kill Xander, she'd be done.

She stared past Angelus and toward 'Alex,' as the child-thing called himself. She couldn't accept it, somehow, that that was part of Xander. Xander was her Xander-shaped friend, the boy that would always be there for her with a dumb joke and a smile even when she was ready to give up, who would give up his comic books for a night at the library to study and prep her for her run-in with the next demon even though he had no duty or obligation to her. Even as Willow became a witch and Oz a werewolf, even though he was the only human of the bunch, Xander had stayed.

Now she was losing him to the darkness as well – or maybe she'd already lost him the moment that he'd met her. It would have been better off for everyone if she'd just kept to herself in Sunnydale and never made any friends. That way she could have saved everyone and let them lead their lives free of the darkness that seemed to infect everything she touched or loved.

***

Giles felt like he was going to explode. Within the Circle, Buffy and Xander were as still as the dead, barely breathing. Willow was still floating above the ground, connected to the three on the ground by ghostly threads of magical energy, while Marie-Claire and Drusilla were trapped within the boundaries of the Circle. Meanwhile, he was blocked out. Giles couldn't handle feeling useless; it drove him mad. And his Slayer and the boy that he'd grown so close to were there, their lives in danger as he stood by in all his uselessness, as Buffy would say.

Oz didn't seem to be handling it any better; the young werewolf was staring at Willow and growing pale at the magic that seemed to be flowing effortlessly from the witch. Despite Jenny's desperate spell, Giles was still stunned that Willow had found the strength to not only cast the spell but continue it indefinitely; there was a force within her that he'd rarely seen in a magician and it only seemed to be growing more powerful as the months wore on.

Cordelia had her knees clutched to her chest like a young child, and she looked close to breaking. Jenny was sitting against the wall, resting her eyes, and Giles ran his hand through his hair. Finally, he headed into the kitchen, one of the only places in his apartment that _wasn't_ destroyed. He took out a bottle of scotch from back in the cabinet that he rarely visited and came back with glasses.

Jenny smiled at him gently as he knocked back a shot. He screwed the top back on resolutely. He wouldn't allow himself to get drunk. But he could offer some to Jenny. She smiled and shook her head. "They'll be alright, Rupert. She's stronger than you think."

"She's only seventeen," he whispered. "I know that as the Slayer she's strong enough to face it, but as a girl, I'm afraid how much more she can take."

"She's got you to lean on," Jenny said softly. Giles nodded tightly, never taking his eyes off his Slayer – not till she returned home. Oz watched Willow, the same determination in his eyes.

***

"We've arrived," Alex announced. Buffy and Angelus both jerked from their melancholy reveries, looking around. The scenery had again shifted imperceptibly, and they were standing at the beach. Standing in the sand, looking out toward the water, was a demon. He turned to them calmly and Buffy almost gagged.

The Stoírm, for it could only be he, looked like the finished product of what he was trying to do to Xander. The thing's skin was indigo shot through with reddish streaks, its eyes pure black. The enormous ashen wings were expanded from its back and the tail peaked around from behind him. Horns poked from beneath dark red hair, and there was a row of spikes going up his arms. He wore no clothing, and Buffy was vaguely horrified to notice that the demon had manly bits that were quite large.

It stared at them calmly, and she could feel the power rolling off of it in waves, making her vaguely nauseous.

"**I must say, I'm surprised**," it said, its voice making the air tremble like thunder. "**You must care for my son-and-grandson very much to have risked the Dance of Souls in order to save him**." Buffy almost gagged as he confirmed Marie-Claire's story of Xander's incestuous birth. "**It is too bad that you are a Slayer, else I would offer you a place in my coming kingdom for your brave effrontery**."

"Too bad that I can't look at you without throwing up in my mouth a little," Buffy shot back, her fists clenching in anger. She _hated_ the demon before her with every ounce of her being, this _thing_ that had plagued Xander's parents and ruined so many lives, this _thing_ that had brought Xander into being only to murder him as a stepping stone to the apocalypse.

"**You **_**do**_** have sass**," the Stoírm said, as if pleased. "**The Slayers I've seen over the years are too much a creation of the Shadowmen's successors, the Council of Watchers – nothing but tools**."

"Where's Xander?" Angelus demanded, stepping forward. The Stoírm turned to regard him.

"**You are just as interesting as this Slayer, aren't you, Angelus?**" The demon asked him, staring at him. "**Vampires are stupid, instinctual race by far, but **_**you**_** have risen above that. You are not just your bloodlust; you are a master of pain. All vampires cause pain by nature but you take more pleasure in it than any beast that walked before you. And yet the great Angelus has allowed himself to be more than tied to a **_**mortal**_**, to allow himself to feel **_**remorse**_**?**"

"Don't think that you know a _thing_ about me," Angelus snarled.

"You're wrong," the Stoírm said quietly. "I know everything about you because I was once exactly like you – torn between the powers of immortality and the temptation of the mortal flesh."

"And look where that got Rakia," Buffy pointed out. "I'm not going to lose Xander to you!"

"**Rakia**," the Stoírm breathed, taken aback. "**You **_**did**_** read the story well, didn't you, Slayer? That's why you love him so much, of course – he's nearly a copy of her. Always sacrificing herself for good when everything around her was darkness. She thought she could save…**" He looked away, almost human in a moment of supreme regret, bitterness, loss. But he looked back up and the moment had gone, leaving only the blank, implacable slate behind. "**It doesn't matter what she thought, and it doesn't matter what Alexander thought – you know, it strikes me that there is a sort of irony in his name, isn't there? 'Defender of Mankind,' and he is instead the Key to my resurrection, and thus the key to Armageddon.**"

"So you're just going to kill your own son?" Angelus demanded.

"**You took great pleasure in murdering your father, if you'll recall**," the demon answered flatly. "**Alexander carries my blood in his veins for one reason: the Key to Atlantis**."

"Go to Hell!" Buffy snapped, and lunged forward, driving her fist into the thing's jaw as hard as she'd ever hit anything before in her life. Her knuckles felt like she'd just pounded them into a brick wall, but she was the Slayer; she'd endured worse. It had been satisfying to see the shock and pain break through the demon's composure as she'd knocked him flying.

"**You must realize, Slayer or no, that you have no hope against me**," the Stoírm said reasonably as it regained its footing and its composure. "**I give you this one chance – leave this place now, and when I finish defeating the slumbering enchantment I've been put under I will not kill any of your friends until the apocalypse.**"

"I've killed hundreds of demons," Buffy said, standing her ground. "And you know what I've noticed? Any time that they're genuinely afraid that there's a chance that they'll lose, they offer me a way out."

Her reply hit its mark; the Stoírm flinched and growled in anger, taking a step toward her, until Angelus, who had slipped behind it, slammed it in the back of the head with a clenched fist. The thing stumbled forward right into Buffy's leg, which slammed into its face with a satisfying _crunch_. Angelus clenched his fists together and brought them down with tremendous force on the back of the Stoírm's head, and Buffy swirled into a vicious roundhouse kick that smashed into the side of its face.

The speed of their attack had taken it by surprise, but the Stoírm was quick to recover; while it wheeled to the side it brought up its own leg and sent Buffy flying with a stunningly powerful blow to the side. When the Slayer hit the sand, the Stoírm turned to Angelus and simply waved its hand, sending the vampire flying backward. Buffy screamed a battle cry and threw martial arts out the window; she launched herself at the Stoírm and hit it low. The thing roared as it went down and she struggled on top of it, slamming her elbow into its face repeatedly, until bright blue blood began to seep from its nose and mouth.

Enraged, the demon held its hands out and conjured up a bolt of lightning which crashed into Buffy and sent her flying. She landed on the sand in a heap, gasping for breath. Luckily she'd taken it by surprise, so there hadn't been nearly as much power behind that little love tap as she was sure the Stoírm was capable of delivering. She looked up in time to see Angelus slam into the other demon, inspired by her grappling approach.

The Stoírm rolled over and pinned Angelus to the ground, then raised its hand to conjure up a deadly magic flame. Buffy leapt up into the air and snapped a flying kick straight into the back of its neck. It yelped like an animal and slumped forward, and Angelus hurled it off of him and started slamming his fists anywhere they would reach.

_We need help_, Buffy thought desperately as the Stoírm continued to get up, no matter how hard they hit it.

***

"Oh, god," Cordelia breathed as Buffy's breath hitched and her knuckles started bleeding as if she'd hit something.

"It's started," Giles murmured. Jenny clutched his hand as Buffy let out a pained murmur, and the rest of the Scooby Gang breathed in something akin to terror as they watched their warriors, helpless to do anything for them.

Mathu continued to watch the Circle, on odd expression on his face.

***

"**This contest is over**," the Stoírm declared coldly as Buffy and Angelus began struggling to their feet again, bruised and bleeding. "**Humans! You never stay down when you should!**"

"You don't know a damn thing about being human," Buffy snarled. "I'm not giving up on Xander!"

"**Very well,**" the Stoírm said. "**It has been a pleasure, Slayer. Prepare yourself for death.**"

"Buffy?"

Everyone on the beach whirled around to see _Xander_, standing there hand in hand with Alex, looking confused and healthy and alive. "Xander!" Angelus whispered beside her, taking a step forward.

"Angelus? Buffy? What the hell is going on?" Xander demanded, looking around in confusion. "We're at the beach? When did we go to the beach? Why aren't you on fire, Angelus? Where am I? What am I wearing?"

"Shut up!" Alex demanded from beside him.

"And I still don't know who the hell _you_ are," Xander declared. "But you look…really familiar – what are you?"

"I'm _you_, moron – or at least, someone that you forgot."

"**What is this?**" the Stoírm asked, looking confused and almost…scared?

"I know you…" Xander breathed, looking at the demon before him. "How do I know you?"

"There isn't time for that," Alex said flatly. "He's taken over our body and he means to kill us. It's time to return the favor."

"What?!" Xander gasped, but Alex only turned to him and grinned.

"It's time, Xander," said the boy.

"**NO!**" the demon roared, stepping forward, but it was too late. Alex simply walked into Xander and then was gone, in a flash of light. Xander collapsed to the beach with a scream of pain, rage, confusion, hurt, pain, sorrow, joy, ecstasy – one end of the spectrum to the other, reborn in the salty waters of an ocean contained in his own mind.

"Xander!" Buffy and Angelus rushed forward, but then Xander simply lifted off the ground to land on his feet. He blinked, and his eyes slowly bled to black. Buffy froze, unsure, but Angelus continued. Xander looked at him and shook his head, as if confused, but then his gaze locked on the Stoírm and his face twisted into a grimace of hatred.

"You," he said. Xander took a step forward and the Stoírm took a step back. "You've ruined my entire life. You took over my _body_ and tried to _kill_ me!"

"**No – this…this can't happen!**" the Stoírm was backing away, almost frantic, as the beach began to dissolve around them. Buffy watched, growing dizzy as the fabric of the world ripped away and suddenly they were somewhere else entirely, in what seemed to be a pit of fire as gouts of flame burned around them and lava made up the floor. She shrieked as an island formed beneath her feet and she was stuck there to watch as the same thing happened to Angelus. In the middle of what was beginning to look like a hellish arena, Xander stood tall and imperious, power flowing from him in waves as he glared at the Stoírm.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Xander roared, and the flames bowed to his will, forming a wall of fiery inferno that launched at the Stoírm in fury. The demon roared and summoned a shield of wind that quelled the fire, blowing it away from him. The two of them, demon and mortal, father and son, stared at each other as the flames died down around them. There was silence but for the crackling of flames around them, and then they launched themselves at each other.

A whirlwind formed around the Stoírm in protection as Xander blasted a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. The demon's shield repelled it and he responded in kind, which Xander simply absorbed into his palm. Buffy watched in awe and shock and near horror as Xander lifted into the air, laughing at the ecstasy of power as the flames shook at his command and began to pelt the Stoírm. The demon, powerful as he was, could not fight both Xander at the world at once, it seemed.

Seeming to recognize this, the Stoírm latched onto a gout of flame and formed it into a spear which he hurled at Xander while his concentration was on shaping the world to his will. It struck Xander hard and sent him crumpling to the ground. The Stoírm stood triumphant as Angelus roared in frustration – but he couldn't move any more than Buffy could without killing himself.

"**You are indeed more powerful than I thought you would be**," the Stoírm acknowledged. "**But you are not powerful enough, my son. I will weep over your grave**." The demon raised his hands to deliver the death blow, when Xander simply laughed and stood up.

"No, you won't – because I have something that you don't have and never will," Xander said.

"**And what's that?**" the Stoírm asked, stepping back cautiously.

"Friends," Xander answered easily, and tossed out a bolt of power at Buffy and Angelus. The Slayer screamed in pain as something like a flame shot from her, joining one from Angelus that Xander held in front of him, and at his command the flames joined his own, forming a blinding light that exploded in a supernova of power that shattered the walls of the astral realm they'd been imprisoned in. The Stoírm screamed one last scream and then was gone from the realms of Xander's mind.

When Buffy could see again, she seemed to be floating through space. _How strange_, she thought as she drifted lazily past a cluster of stars. She looked at the beautiful colors and was caught by an image of her own face. She stared harder and suddenly it was like she was watching a television show:

"_A _pig_?!" Xander demanded, revolted. "I ate a _pig_?!"_

_Willow and Buffy nodded mercilessly, grinning. Xander groaned, smacking his hand to his head, and they all laughed under the California sun at another day at Sunnydale High School_—

_They're memories_, Buffy realized. _That was when Xander got possessed by that hyena thingie!_ She looked around and saw Xander himself, floating lazily through the cosmos of his own mind. He was unconscious. There was more urgency starting to leak through the lazy feeling of floating that she had. She glanced around and sure enough, there was Angelus. She wondered if she looked as bad as he did; that explosion had beat him black and blue. If that was how she looked, she was glad she felt numb.

"Xander!" Angelus yelled, making ridiculous swimming motions toward the unconscious form. "Xander!" Buffy joined him, fighting her way toward her friend. They reached him at the same time, caught in a moment of time.

"What do we do?" Buffy asked, panicked.

"I know," Angelus whispered. He shot her a look not easily read behind his demonic visage. "We bring him back to life."

"What do you mean?" she asked uncertainly, but Angelus merely bent forward and pressed his lips to Xander's. She watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Xander moaned unconsciously and then there was a flicker, like a spark of flame, and a memory cluster exploded into life around them—

_Xander and Angelus kissing; Xander and Angelus in bed, fighting, making love; Angelus biting Xander; the demon roaring in Xander's mind, the power flying through Xander's body, dark thoughts and wants and dreams_—

Buffy screamed and pulled Xander away from Angelus. The vampire growled at her but before he could do anything she pulled Xander's lips to hers. Another moan, and then another spark of memory, of life—

_Xander and Buffy laughing as Cordelia tripped on her ridiculous high heels on her way into school; Xander and Willow giggling at dumb jokes as they were hyped on caffeine; the Scooby Gang dancing at the Bronze as Xander tripped all over himself; Xander flinging a cross in Angel's face and demanding the vampire take him to save Buffy, no matter the danger_—

And then there was another explosion, something like a brilliant flash of light without the violence but there was _motion_, and then Buffy felt like she'd got run over by a freight train and she was gasping in breath and opening her eyes and sitting up within the boundaries of the Circle of Psyche, firmly rooted in her very sore body.

Beside her, Angelus moaned as he opened his eyes, slowly sitting up, his human disguise firmly in place. The Circle sang out a final song and the scent of magic slowly died in the air as Willow drifted back to earth and the golden cage that had kept them captive within the magic faded into mist. Oz rushed forward and caught the witch before she touched the ground, and she moaned into his soldier as if coming back to herself after a very deep sleep. Marie-Claire stumbled out of the Circle as Drusilla stepped back.

Giles wrapped his coat around Buffy's shoulders as she jerked away. Xander was moaning and writhing on the floor, whimpering in pain as his entire body shuddered and then—it was like watching a movie in rewind: the horns slowly faded back to regular skin the blood dripping from them flowed back into Xander's face, restoring color; Xander's eyes shot open, once again sweet chocolate brown; Xander's mouth opened in a silent scream, fangs receding and leaving healthy human teeth; Xander's skin slowly bronzed back to its usual golden tones; Xander's hair faded back to human; he rolled on his stomach as the great wings faded into nothingness and the tail was already gone. Within moments, a very human Xander Harris was shuddering and sweating in the ruins of Giles' living room.

"Xander!" Cordelia screeched, running toward him and enveloping him in a giant hug.

"Cordy," he whispered, and collapsed in her arms.

"Oof!" she complained, and Buffy and Willow quickly ran forward, and even Giles lost his very British composure to step forward and weep as the Scooby Gang was reunited just as it was meant to be. Oz grinned and Jenny smiled gently at the scene.

"Sweet Goddess, you succeeded," Marie-Claire breathed.

"So that's over with? You're not going to try to kill him?" Cordelia demanded.

"Well, it isn't entirely over, but there's time for all that now," Marie-Claire said, but she was smiling brightly. Reassured, Cordelia returned to looking at Xander, who was shuddering so hard his teeth were chattering. "You should get him in bed, Mr. Giles – he's been through too much for one so young."

"Yes – my loft wasn't destroyed," Giles said, helping Xander stagger to his feet.

"Xander," Angelus murmured, stepping forward.

"_Don't touch me!_" Xander yelped, panicked, and jerked away from the vampire's touch. Angelus froze, stunned. "You did this to me! You…I…you let…" There was so much hurt and betrayal and pain in Xander's voice that Angelus felt like he'd been staked.

"Xander," he whispered, choked.

"_Please_," Xander whimpered.

"There's a sewer on the other side of the street. If you take a blanket you'll make it," Buffy said quietly, not looking at the vampires. "Just…go."

"Xander," Angelus murmured. "I…" But Xander was only shaking even more. Angelus robotically picked up the blanket the Slayer had indicated. Drusilla led him out, and for a moment the room was still as they rushed to the sewers and vanished.

"Buffy…" Giles began.

"Later, Giles. Later," she said tiredly. "After about forty straight hours of sleep."

"Sounds good," Xander whispered, still shaking. Buffy shouldered the pain and lifted him up easily enough – too much of him had been drained by the possession and he was light as a child in the Slayer's arms. She set him in the bed feeling much like a mother bear as she tucked a blanket around him. There was time for one last Xander-smile and then he was out, sleeping like a child.

In the living room, she heard Giles agree to meet with Marie-Claire later, once they'd all slept. _Good – at least I don't have to worry about that_. Instead she'd have to worry about what the hell she was going to say to her mother about all this. But that could wait. For now, she was going to sleep. Carelessly, Buffy crawled into bed next to Xander, curled around him like he was a teddy bear.

When next Giles went upstairs, Buffy and Willow had Xander sandwiched in between them and Oz was on Willow's other side, all four of them deeply asleep. He smiled and went back downstairs to fix a meal, and see what he could do about cleaning up. But of one thing he was certain – whatever had gone on between Xander and Angelus that had started this whole mess was far from over.

But they could worry about that later – now they could just celebrate in the defeated apocalypse together, a team once more. And Jenny was waiting for him downstairs. A genuine smile graced his lips for the first time in months as he headed downstairs, the shattered windows letting in the light of a new dawn.

**A/N:** Alright, so I'm sure that some of you are going to be mad at me for that one, but come on – Xander's been through a lot, okay?! Give him some time! (Heh.) In any case, the next chapter probably won't be _so_ exciting, but it also probably won't be twenty pages long, so there's always a bright spot.

I'm rambling. I've got nothing else to say. Seriously. So I should stop typing. Ah! It's about spring break and I'm tasting the freedom! And I'm not really awake right now! So, I'm going to pay attention to my class and post this.

See ya soon!


	25. XXII: The Devil in the Details

A/N: It's baaaaaaaaaack! I really do owe you an explanation on why this took so long, and I'm going to post it here before I post it on my LiveJournal because I've been active on this site for so long – that is, assuming I've still got readers willing to keep reading after that break.

Long story short, I lost my laptop. I got most of my files off of it, but it was still a nightmare. The economy being what it is, it took me till about two weeks ago to get a new laptop – which I'm now typing this on. Since then, I've been working on this exclusively. I'll probably work on _Winter Song_ next, but my _Passion_ muse was calling to me. You have no idea how hard it was to be separated from a laptop for so long!

In any case, the laptop problem has been fixed and I am now fully connected to the internet at home. I've got this chapter finished and I'm already about half-done with the next chapter, so thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with this story, and I hope that this one was worth the wait. Yes, I know there isn't a huge amount actually _happening_ in this chapter, but it's the chapter that needed to happen so we can launch into the next group of chapters, which are really important, so there you go.

Inconsequential Side Note I: _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ was the best Harry Potter flick since _Chamber of Secrets_. It was the most true to the novel since the second movie, and I was very impressed with it. It was _almost_ enough to make up for the monumental failures that were the third and fourth movies. Almost.

Inconsequential Side Note II: Paying for college textbooks sucks.

So, without further ado, here we go (finally) into:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XXII

_The Devil in the Details_

The parents had had to be dealt with first, and quickly. Buffy's mother was a very protective woman, and after not seeing or hearing from her daughter for more than twenty-four hours, Joyce Summers had decided to forgo the inept Sunnydale police department and head directly to the places her daughter was most likely to be: the Rosenbergs to look for Willow (both of Willow's parents quickly joined the search, figuring that their daughter was most likely with Buffy), then to the Osbornes to see if they were with Oz, then to the school to see if Buffy had pulled another all-nighter at the library. Upon hearing that neither Miss Calendar nor Mr. Giles had shown up for work, Joyce and the Rosenbergs had loaded up in Joyce's SUV and headed straight for Giles' apartment.

The fact that the townhouse looked like it had been hit by a centralized atomic bomb did nothing for their rattled nerves. The fact that Buffy was in Giles' bed along with Willow, Oz, Cordelia, and Xander—who had been missing for nearly three months—finally caused Joyce to snap. "You've abducted my daughter and you're involving her in some sort of twisted sexual orgy!" she accused. Mrs. Rosenberg buried her face in her husband's shoulder. It had taken quite a bit of doing for Giles to calm the irate parents down. When they still demanded explanations, Jenny thankfully stepped up to the plate.

"Buffy has been…investigating Xander's disappearance," she said quickly, stepping forward. "You know how protective she gets—like that night the school was attacked by that street gang on Parent-Teacher Night," she continued, inspired. Joyce conceded that point, remembering how her daughter had fearlessly leapt up into the air ducts and gotten everyone out of the building.

"And you _allowed_ this? Really, Mr. Giles, I've come to trust you when it comes to my daughter, but who knows what could have happened to Xander—not that I'm not thrilled that he's back, of course I am! But you allowed my daughter to go _hunting_ for him?" Joyce folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, nothing like _that_," Jenny stepped in again. "No, she just…got Willow's help to look up crimes on the internet and posted pictures and checked in with the police to ask if they'd gotten leads. We let her use the school computers. She's been so down lately; we thought that if she felt like she was actually doing something, however small, to help Xander, it might lift her spirits." Joyce slowly nodded, and both Giles and Jenny breathed small sighs of relief when they saw that she was starting to calm down. "Well, what she didn't tell us was that she'd obviously found something on her own."

"She must have thought that we would try to stop her—which of course we would have," Giles said severely.

"Of course," Joyce said. "But, Mr. Giles, it looks like a _bomb_ went off in here!" Suddenly, she gasped. "Was Xander _kidnapped_? Did they fight back? Is my daughter alright?!" Jenny stepped forward and put a calming hand on Joyce's shoulder (literally; she cast a small spell of tranquility to help Joyce breathe more calmly).

"You remember the storm yesterday?" Giles asked, thinking fast.

"Oh, yes, that awful freak thunderstorm," Mrs. Rosenberg nodded. "The weathermen were so baffled, and it was so localized…Oh, Lord, is that what happened here?"

"Yes – lightning, you understand. Luckily I wasn't in at the time and no one was hurt," Giles said, sighing.

"I certainly hope you have good insurance," Mr. Rosenberg muttered, glancing around at the carnage that was once a pristine townhouse.

"Oh, yes," Giles assured him. _Oh, yes, the Watchers' Council will pay for this,_ he thought grimly. "Now, Mrs. Summers, the truth of the matter is that I wasn't present. It seems likely that Buffy fought _someone_, because she has a few bangs and bruises, but all in all she is fairly unharmed. She was just very tired—perhaps finally locating Xander after these stressful months has caught up with her. I let her and Xander use my bed, and then Willow and the rest just followed them. They've been sleeping for the past four hours and I'm somewhat hesitant to wake them."

"What does Willow have to do with all of this?" Mr. Rosenberg demanded. "Has our daughter been involved in illegal dealings?"

"Oh, of course not, Mr. Rosenberg," Jenny said smoothly. "She didn't know where Buffy had gone, either; she was so worried for Buffy that she came here to wait. Everyone has been so stressed out these past months that I think the exhaustion is natural."

"Yes, I was reading an excellent article about how unhealthy levels of stress can lead to physical exhaustion," nodded Mrs. Rosenberg. "As long as she's not physically injured, we really should be getting back to the conference, Ira…"

"Oh, yes. Thank you very much for taking care of her, Mr. Giles," said Mr. Rosenberg, already preparing to leave.

"Oh, it's never a problem. Willow is a very lovely and talented girl." The Rosenbergs glowed with pride as they left. Joyce shook her head in something akin to disgust after them.

"If that girl didn't make straight A's they'd never know she existed," Joyce said after a moment. "I think _I_ was more worried about Willow's wellbeing than they were this morning; it was only after Ira thought of the legal ramifications that he decided to help me search for them." She sighed and sank exhaustedly onto one of the few remaining barstools at the breakfast counter. "Mr. Giles, I'd appreciate it if you had told me about Buffy's extracurricular activities. I appreciate how you were trying to help her relieve her stress, believe me, but I'm her mother and…well, ever since we've got to Sunnydale I feel as if something keeps drawing Buffy away from me…" She trailed off for a moment.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Summers," Giles said uncomfortably. "I'm very sorry." And he was, really; Joyce was a perfectly lovely woman who cared for her daughter very much, and yet in some ways he was closer to Buffy than Joyce was, as Joyce could have no inkling of her daughter's calling as the Slayer. Buffy preferred it that way, she'd once told him. _What, tell my mother that I'm the Slayer? Well, other than that I'm sure you'd get all lectury with me about 'secret this' and blah blah blah, would _you_? Would you give your mother that burden, tell her that anytime she's walking around after dark she's not safe? That the choice she made to move us here put us over the Mouth of Hell? That I go out fighting for my life every night? She's better off in the dark, Giles, believe me._

"I've really got to thank you for taking such good care of her," Joyce said after a moment. "After…the troubles in Los Angeles, so few teachers have really tried to see Buffy for who she really is. They just think 'troublemaker' or 'pyromaniac' and write her off as a failure. But I've seen how much it helps her that you've taken an interest, especially with that awful principal Snyder."

"Yes, well," Giles said, feeling even guiltier. "If you'd like, I can drive her home after she wakes up?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Joyce sighed. "I didn't sleep at all last night and I've got someone covering for me at the gallery; the least I can do is get some work done today. I think I'm going to need to have a serious talk with my daughter about the uses of a telephone." Somehow Giles had the suspicion that Buffy wouldn't be facing serious punishment when she went home.

"So, what do we do now?" Jenny asked after Joyce had left. Giles turned to regard her seriously.

"That does seem to be the question, doesn't it?" he asked after a moment. Jenny sighed.

"Rupert, I made a choice. It was something that needed to be done, and the consequences are mine to face—consequences that I _earned_, keep in mind."

"You don't need to face the consequences alone, Jenny," he said softly.

"Actually, I do," she replied. Seeing the hurt on his face, she chuckled softly and leaned in, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Rupert, I'm not pushing you away. The fact of the matter is that everything that I've ever learned about my life, my role in it, has been shattered in less than a day. I'm no longer part of the Kalderash tribe; I'm no longer part of the Coven. Now, with all of that gone, I've got to figure out what's left. And that's something that I need to learn on my own. I'm not saying that we'll never see each other, but I can't figure out my life while I'm trying to figure out my life with someone else." He nodded slightly, but he was wincing. "Give me time, Rupert. That's all I'm asking for."

"Time is something I can easily give," he whispered, and then she was in his arms and his lips were on hers, and Jenny, just Jenny, smiled.

***

The next thing, of course, was to speak to the Coven. Giles hesitated as he regarded the cell phone number that the Lady of the Lake had given to him. _The Lady of the Lake!_ It struck him as hysterically funny, for a moment, that such a legendary figure should have a cell. Of course, if that were the only hysterics that he indulged in, he figured that he was in far better shape than he would have guessed. Jenny wasn't the only one trying to refigure her life, not anymore.

The truth was, Marie-Claire's narrative had rocked Giles down to his core. The horrifying origins of the Slayer line and indeed the Watchers' Council…and hadn't the Council given him reason to pause, time and time again? Hadn't the bureaucracy of the group stifled him? And then there was the general attitude of the Council – mostly men, of course. It was rather like sitting back in a class in Oxford he'd sat in on to hear a guest speaker lecture on how much of the knowledge of Goddess worship was lost due to the overwhelming sexism and Judeo-Christian thinking of scholars at the time. The Slayer was like that goddess whose importance had been ground away until she was regarded as nothing but a tool to a group of men who solemnly declared that they were fighting the war from their posh, thousand pound leather chairs.

This group, that Giles was beginning to consider most distasteful, had the audacity to command him to subject Buffy to the Cruciamentum, an arcane and barbaric practice that had killed more than it had strengthened, merely because the Council knew that if the Slayer perished another would inherit the title? Did the Council know of their origins, or of the origins of the Slayer Line? If so, Giles had never heard of it. No one in the lower echelons of the Watchers' Council knew the origins of the Slayer's powers, and never had Giles heard even a whisper that that power was demonic in nature.

With this knowledge, would he have to make a choice as well? He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. There was too much else to deal with now to allow himself to wallow in doubt. He had to move forward with purpose, something his grandmother had taught him. She had been an excellent Watcher, completely dedicated to the cause. "Rupert," she'd told him when he was young. "In this line of work, we see the foulest things imaginable, and also the most wondrous. You must never lose that sense of wonder, or else the darkness will have won. If ever you find yourself lost in that dark wilderness, you don't stand in the dark and cry for someone to help you. You move forward with purpose. Eventually that purpose will bring the light back, mark my words."

It was sound advice, and it had never failed him before. So he moved forward, picked up his phone, and dialed the number. She answered on the first ring, her voice crisp but still somewhat hoarse from the long tale she'd told that morning. "Yes, Mr. Giles?"

"You said to phone when we were ready to speak," he reminded her.

"Yes," she answered. "I wonder if you'd like to meet somewhere other than your apartment for our conversation? It will be just me and you; the Lord has had to return to the Isle and our Seer has detected no further attacks this day."

"Where?" he asked.

"There's a rather charming park on a small hill that overlooks Sunnydale Beach, as I've discovered, and an old oak tree at the crest of the hill."

"I know the place, yes," he told her.

"Very good. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," she said, and hung up. He had to admire the way she refused to mince words, but there was still a part of him that bristled internally at the regal tone she carried. Then again, she was quite possibly the most powerful witch in the world and leader of the Ancient Coven. He swallowed his pride and asked Jenny to keep a watch over what was left of his apartment. He went into the bathroom and changed into some clean clothing.

Giles was thankful that it would be only the Lady herself meeting him; he wasn't ready to deal with the rest of the Covenmates that she'd brought with her, in particular the Lord of the Isle. While he didn't know what to expect from this meeting, he knew at least that she cared for Xander, genuinely, judging from her story. Now that the immediate danger had passed, surely she'd have some plan of her own to keep it that way. _You're asking her to make that decision for you, old chap_, Giles reflected as he glanced in the mirror of his ancient Citroen. His reflection stared back at him with circles under his eyes that hadn't used to be there, and he sighed as he drove toward Sunnydale Beach.

She was already waiting for him underneath the oak tree. She'd abandoned her regal attire and it was something of a surprise to him to see the Lady of the Lake dressed in blue jeans and a soft white blouse. She wore no shoes and her eyes were closed in meditation as her toes wriggled in the green grass. Giles felt instantly at ease and knew that she was meeting him not as the Lady but instead as Marie-Claire. He cleared his throat as he took a seat across from her and she slowly opened her eyes.

"Thank you for your promptness, Mr. Giles," she said after a moment.

"Of course – my bed is occupied at the moment, so there's really no rest for the weary," he joked weakly.

"How are they doing?" she asked, the concern in her voice touching him.

"I couldn't really say," he said honestly. "At the moment, the exhaustion has caught up with them—I've been so worried for Buffy these past months. She's pushed herself so hard that she's nearly reached a breaking point that I had hoped she'd never reach: a point where she won't be Buffy anymore and just be…" he trailed off, searching for words.

"The Slayer?" Marie-Claire supplied. He nodded and she sighed. "You are far different from any Watcher I've known, Mr. Giles," she observed. "You truly care about your charge. It's something of a curse for you, isn't it? If you had the cold detachment of the Watchers' Council, it wouldn't hurt nearly so much to see her like this."

"Yes—but then, if I had the cold detachment of the Council, I'm beginning to suspect that Buffy would not have lived this long or done as many extraordinary things as she's done," Giles said baldly. "Your story has given me much pause and even more to think about."

"An organization started badly can still perform works of great good," she said gently, surprising him. "True, there is much about the Watchers' Council and its members that I, for the most part, hold in disdain. But the fact of the matter is that most Watchers enter the Council in the hope of changing the world for the better. Even though you now know the wretched origins of your organization, can you say that the training and teaching they provided for you haven't helped to save the world and your Slayer time and time again?"

"You are more understanding than I," he said with a small smile. "Although I can see your point."

"It's something of a curse in my station," she admitted. "I have to be understanding even when I want to be petty."

"I don't imagine that you brought me up here to discuss the Council," Giles prompted after they'd fallen into a comfortable silence for a moment. "What is the Coven planning regarding Xander?"

"I must admit that we're still trying to figure that out," Marie-Claire said seriously. "None of us expected the Dance of Souls to work. I for one am stunned that your young witch is still alive. And slightly awed…if there were a way to woo her to train on Avalon, I would snap her up in an instant." Her eyes were laughing, belying the seriousness of her words. "But I have a feeling that she won't be leaving Sunnydale anytime soon."

"I suspect you're right," Giles nodded.

"Well, the Stoírm is definitively gone from this plane of existence. We've been able to sense that Xander's consciousness—while fractured in ways that we don't understand—is entirely his again. This erases the immediate danger. But until we know what happened during the Dance of Souls, we won't be able to plan our next move." She regarded him for a moment. "You must have understood the reason that I met you alone? I doubt that any of your group is ready to face us again after what we were ready to do this morning."

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, not understanding her segue.

"I'm suggesting that tonight, after the children have all awoken, I come to your apartment—I and I alone—and perform a simple spell to see what happened. I know that you at least seem to trust me, and that way you can assuage any fears the Slayer may have by having either Jenny or Willow shadow me, if either of their magical energies have been restored."

"About Jenny," Giles began awkwardly.

She held up a hand and stopped him. "She's been formally stripped from the Coven, and she will never be allowed to walk the shores of the Holy Isle again," Marie-Claire said firmly. "Even though we understand why she did what she did, and that her actions led to the prevention of Armageddon, the spell that she cast is utterly forbidden to any and all magic-users that walk the earth. Ordinarily, we would strip her of her powers."

"You can't—" Giles began hotly, but again she cut him off.

"I said _ordinarily_, Mr. Giles," she said gently. "The High Council has met and decided that Jenny will be able to keep her powers and continue to live here, with no further consequence than banishment. In the greater Wiccan community, banishment will serve as a harsh enough punishment for her."

"I don't imagine the Lord of the Isle agreed with your stance," Giles said flatly.

"That is not a topic for discussion," she said, her voice beginning to put guards up again.

"And I wouldn't ask you to divulge the nature of your relationship. But _I_ need assurance," Giles returned. "In the brief amount of time that we met him, the Lord proved himself a thoroughly dislikable person with an active sense of antagonism toward both Xander and his friends. I need to make sure that Avalon's decision is also _his_ decision."

"I understand," she said haltingly. She stared off toward the ocean. "It's true, Mathu has become more and more…difficult, lately. He has so much anger within him that…" She trailed off and didn't finish her sentence. He didn't prompt her to. "Yes, you have my assurance that I will watch the Lord of the Isle to ensure that he does not seek to follow his own path in this matter." She stood up fluidly, the invisible armor of the Lady of the Lake falling around her again. She was a goddess now, high and distant as a star.

"Thank you, Lady," he said, acknowledging this, and she smiled softly, a chink in the armor. "I will contact you when they've woken up."

"Thank you, Mr. Giles," she said. "I'll see you tonight."

When Giles returned to his shattered home, he wasn't at all surprised to see Jenny asleep, slumped against the remnants of his sofa. He'd have to make a full report to the Council as well as withdraw money from his Watchers' accounts in order to resurrect his home. It was funny how the destruction of his home was starting to hit him; in the brief time that he'd been in Sunnydale he had grown rather attached to his townhouse. It was an old building with genuine wood floors and wonderful insulation that kept nearly all the noise of his neighbors from him. He even had a private courtyard that the landlady filled with flowers. As much as he missed England, his flat had become his home away from home. _Strange the things that you notice after a disaster strikes._

Giles crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. Buffy and Willow were both snuggled tightly around Xander in the middle. The boy, although pale, looked remarkably fit considering the trauma he had been forced through. But then, Xander had always been resilient. And there was the answer he hadn't been aware he was searching for – could he still think of Xander as _Xander_ now that he knew what the boy really was? The answer was of course he could, and would. The absolute innocence of that once-smiling face in sleep was more than enough to affirm Giles of the rightness of his actions that morning.

Oz was snuggled into Willow's side, managing to look both protective and innocent all at once. Cordelia was curled like a cat in the large chaise lounge he'd indulged in for reading before bed. She'd dragged it next to the bed so that she could prop her feet up on the mattress. All five of the teenagers seemed to draw comfort in sleep from the closeness of each other. A great tenderness rose in him for the ragtag group of children that had somehow made him part of their family, despite how he'd tried to hold himself in reserve from the beginning. It was no good, though; he'd become the leader of this strangely wonderful group and he would do anything to keep it.

Smiling softly, he retrieved a spare blanket from the foot of the bed and headed back downstairs, sidestepping rubble as he descended. He propped the couch cushions behind Jenny to make her more comfortable, and then spread the blanket over her. She murmured in her sleep and snuggled under the blanket. He smiled at that, too, and then fetched his phone and headed into the courtyard to call the repair men. Willow had been forced to teach him how to use speed dial so that he wouldn't have to look their number up again and again. The exasperation in their voices when he gave his address and asked for a new door—again—was enough to justify the use of the technology.

Giles cast a small spell to muffle the sounds of the workmen as they installed a temporary (and rather unattractive) door an hour later. He tipped them generously, which seemed to improve their moods. Then he sighed and fixed himself some tea. Using the caffeine as energy, Giles set himself to cleaning what he could.

***

Buffy struggled out of what felt like cotton wrapped around her entire head slowly and grudgingly. Her body's clock was telling her that she'd been asleep for more than thirteen hours. She narrowly opened an eye and glanced toward the clock on her bedside. It wasn't there. Funnily enough, she didn't recall her bedroom being done in attractive mahogany wood. She gasped softly as the events of the previous thirty hours or so caught up to her conscious mind in a rush. She glanced frantically next to her, and sure enough, Xander was next to her in Giles' enormous bed, still slumbering, still her Xander-shaped friend.

She quickly got up and stumbled down the stairs. Giles glanced up and smiled, but frowned when Buffy promptly burst into tears. Giles ran toward her, and Buffy clutched onto him desperately, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Jenny looked out of the kitchen in concern, but she smiled slightly as Buffy bawled like a child into Giles' shoulder. He looked fairly panicked, and Jenny had to chuckle at that. No matter how much Giles genuinely cared about all of his young charges, he still wasn't quite sure how to deal with them at times. Jenny, for her part, knew that Buffy was only latching on to the most comforting thing at that moment as her body finally indulged in the breakdown that it so richly deserved.

For several minutes, Buffy just sobbed uncontrollably. She felt like there was an enormous tub full of emotions that she'd put a plug in, and now it was all draining out of her at once. It was sapping, it was awful, it was cathartic, it was wonderful and soothing and agonizing all at once. She couldn't have said how long she cried or how hard. All she knew was that after a long time she finally looked up, embarrassed, and told Giles "You're going to need to wash that tweed in cold water."

"Buffy, are you alright?" he asked, ignoring her lame attempt at lightness. She almost broke down again at the tenderness in his eyes, but she instead took a deep breath. Then she took another and grimaced. "What is it?" Giles asked, worried.

"I really need to pee," she confessed, and darted off in the direction of the bathroom.

"Of course," Giles said with a sigh, and shook his head as he headed back to the kitchen to continue piling the trash into bags. Jenny laughed.

***

The others had all woken up after Buffy's crying jag – well, except for Xander, but Giles had a magical peek in on him and assured them that he was truly just sleeping and that there was nothing to worry about. In truth, Buffy felt infinitely better after unleashing what had felt like a torrential downpour, like every emotion that she'd kept inside herself for these past months had gathered into one enormous thunderhead and the cloud had finally ruptured. It was possible—not that she was much of an optimist lately, but still—that one day the sun would break out on the inside again. Buffy figured that even admitting to herself that she'd needed the breakdown was a good step. And, Slayer powers being what they were, after sleeping for a solid thirteen and a half hours, she felt more than fully restored and energized and ready to kick major demon ass.

The thought was more sobering than she'd intended it to be. She was part demon – alright, not a big part, but still, there was the ancient essence of a demonic overlord flowing through her, energizing her and giving her the powers of the Slayer. No matter what the Lady of the Lake had said about goodness choosing her, Buffy couldn't help feeling…tainted, almost. Was it her that was eager to go patrolling again, or was that small bit of bloodlust a demony transference thing? Would she be questioning her own mind from now on? Choosing not to share her thoughts with Giles, who looked preoccupied enough, Buffy instead focused on the bowl of ice cream Jenny had thoughtfully gone to the store for.

She surreptitiously surveyed her battered troops. Thanks to Jenny's little magic whammy, the damage was mostly emotional. Buffy wondered if she should thank the woman, and then thought of the other witches' harsh words. Maybe being reminded of what she'd done wouldn't be the best thing for her right now? This whole adult emotions thing was _way_ over her head, at least tonight. Buffy was due a new pair of shoes—provided, of course, that her mother didn't ground her for the rest of her natural-born existence, especially after Giles had told her about his attempts at damage control. He'd looked very proud of himself, so Buffy had refrained from bursting into tears in front of him again.

(Did he honestly think that Joyce Summers, a favorite for the 'Most Overprotective Mother of the Year' award, was going to avoid cracking down on her daughter's attempts at playing amateur detective? She could already hear the harangue in her head: _This is a _police_ matter, Buffy!—You're not Superwoman, Buffy!—Do you have any idea how worried I've been, Buffy?!—You are _so_ grounded, Buffy!_ Buffy sighed and philosophically spooned herself another dose of Super Brownie Fudge Chunk.)

Funny how even three days ago Buffy had thought that she even hated Jenny still for her role in Angel's downfall, but now, after everything, it was too much to go through without reevaluating Jenny Calendar. The woman had done what was required of her by both blood family and magical family, and she'd done it with the best of intentions, while arguing _for_ Angel's chance of redemption the entire way. Buffy couldn't find fault in her, no matter how much a petty, childish part of her still wanted to. But then, as Buffy was learning, playing the blame game didn't accomplish much other than alienating people. And she could tell that petty-Buffy part to shut up when she saw the way Giles was smiling at Jenny as she helped him clean rubble out of his kitchen.

Willow and Oz were curled up together on a pair of couch cushions (the couch itself was history, of course), sharing a bowl of ice cream. Buffy couldn't help smiling at how cute a picture they made, even though it still gave her a twinge of pain when she thought of everything she'd lost this year. But she couldn't begrudge her friends their happiness, after everything. It was also something of a relief to see Willow looking more and more like her nerdy self, after the freakishness that had been Superwitch!Willow that morning. Willow had circles under the bags under the circles under her eyes, and she was quite pale, but Giles had assured them all that that was just the toll of the magic on Willow's system; after a few more restful days and plenty of vegetables and water, Willow should be feeling back to the up and up.

Cordelia had opted to go upstairs with her ice cream (after suspiciously checking the fat content and then sighing theatrically) and watch Xander to make sure that he didn't wake up alone. Buffy was more than grateful because…well, yes, she was more than happy, she was overjoyed shoot the moon thrilled to have Xander back. But then…Yeah, _but then_. What could she say to Xander—what could any of them say? Because the fact of the matter remained that Xander had gone with Angelus willingly. Xander had chosen to put them all through this – or at least, he'd made the choices that had led them to this. And there was a large part of her that felt like punching him on the nose when she thought of the memories she'd glimpsed in his head during that weird Wiccan Mind Meld thing – memories of him and Angelus together…

But she'd been joined with him on a soul-searing level. She'd _felt_ everything that Xander felt and she'd felt his love for Angel, and his passion for Angelus, and she'd seen the _look_ on Angelus' face when Xander had recoiled from his touch this morning, and she _couldn't_ hate Xander for sleeping with Angelus, but she _did_. Buffy buried her head in her hands. She _loved_ Xander. He was more than her best friend, he was the brother that she'd never had but always sort of wanted. But she couldn't help the feelings of betrayal that shot through her when she thought of how he'd felt about _Angel_, _her_ Angel, never mind _Angelus_, he of the psychotic torturing rampages.

There were too many thoughts inside her tired mind, and for one instant she longed with all her being for the age of thirteen, when she was young, bouncy, blonde, and a bubbly cheerleader with not a thought in her head but the next sale at the mall. But after a moment, she rejected the fantasy. No matter how much hardship being the Slayer had brought her, it had opened her eyes. She didn't even recognize the shallow, vapid girl that she'd once been.

"Er, well, since everyone's awake," Giles began hesitantly. Buffy looked up with narrowed eyes.

"If you try to put us through more official business tonight I'll stab you with this spoon," she threatened, and forcefully shoveled another mouthful of chocolatey deliciousness into her mouth. Giles looked appropriately threatened, but she noticed his determined Watcher face, and sighed. Sensing that he'd somehow won the battle before fighting it, Giles heaved a small sigh of relief and forged on. Willow shot her an amused look.

"The Lady of the Lake – that is to say, Marie-Claire – is coming tonight," Giles announced.

"Why?" Cordelia asked from the top of the stairs. "What would _she_ want?" From the distaste in her voice, Buffy didn't have to guess at Cordelia's feelings for the Avalon group. Funnily enough, Buffy didn't have much of a desire to see any of them again, either. She nodded in agreement.

"She's going to come in order to check on Xander in ways far more reliable than I have on hand, and then she's going to discuss with us the subject of Xander's future," Giles said. "She's coming alone because we both felt that everyone here trusted her more than the rest of the Avalon coven. And she does seem to care for Xander—"

"Yeah, enough to say 'sorry' before she tried to kill him," Cordelia said flatly, glaring daggers at Giles. Giles didn't meet her eyes, and Buffy didn't blame him; there was nothing in the world quite like a true, patented Icy Glare of Cordelia Chase.

"Marie-Claire is someone you can trust," Jenny said unexpectedly from the kitchen. She stared into her teacup for a moment as if the answers of the universe were in there. She gradually looked up, almost unwillingly, to find them all staring at her. Flustered, she took a sip and continued, "Of the rest of the group from Avalon, she's still the most…connected to the rest of the world, I suppose you could say. She hasn't isolated herself from the lives outside of the Holy Isle the way that most of them have. And she truly wouldn't want to see Xander hurt, for what that's worth."

"I believe her," Buffy said after a moment. "I got a good reading off of her, this morning, or at least as much of one as you can trust from someone who can work some voodoo to make you trust them."

"And being one of the ones who can work some voodoo," Willow said, shooting Buffy a look, "I think that we can trust her – way more than we can trust that druid jerk, anyways."

"Yeah, him," Buffy said. "What's his deal, anyway?"

"I couldn't tell you," Jenny said, answering the question. "The Lord—Mathu," she said, catching herself, "has always had more…anger, I suppose, than most who study at Avalon. He's powerful, but he's proud and unforgiving. I didn't study with the older classes, so I didn't have much experience with Mathu's teacher Shiloh, but I would have thought that someone as…" she trailed off.

"Prickish?" Cordelia supplied acerbically.

"Pigheaded," Jenny said firmly, "as Mathu wouldn't have been trusted with the title of Lord of the Isle."

"Well, I damn well made certain that he will not be coming tonight," Giles said firmly. "I don't like the man, and frankly I don't trust him. Something about him reminded me of Ethan Rayne."

"The guy that you used to do black magic junkie stuff with? Ew!" Cordelia commented, coming downstairs.

"As usual, Cordelia, your way with words is unsurpassed," Giles said after a moment as he cleaned his glasses. "How is Xander?"

"He's snoring away up there," she reported. "I don't know how he manages to sleep through it when he starts snoring; it's like a ripsaw up there."

"He used to make cute little breathing noises through his nose when we had sleepovers in each others' beds," Willow reminisced fondly. She glanced up and noticed everyone staring at her. Flushing brighter red than her hair, she exclaimed "When we were _children_! Don't _look_ at me like that!"

"_Anyway_," Buffy said after a moment of collective silence, "when is she due to get here?"

"I called her after you woke up," Giles said. "She'll likely be here any moment."

"Should we wake Xander up?" Willow asked. "Since we're gonna be talking about him and all?"

"I think the best thing for him is to let him sleep," Jenny said. "He's been through hell and back these last few days. He still needs to get over the stress."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. They all paused. Buffy finally stood up to answer it. By unspoken agreement, Willow joined Cordelia at the stairs, unconsciously blocking access to Xander like guards. Oz, ever Willow's satellite these days, took up his usual taciturn silence and leaned against the stairs next to Willow. Jenny's hand slipped into Giles', and he gave it a reassuring squeeze as they both leaned against the breakfast bar. Buffy opened the door.

"Good evening," said the Lady of the Lake. "I'm glad that you're feeling better."

"Thank you," Buffy said politely. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you," said the Lady, and she carefully stepped in. Tonight, she was dressed in a plain white dress that emphasized her pale skin and light blonde hair. She had a white cloak draped loosely over her shoulders, and Buffy had to wonder how she'd managed to get from wherever she was staying all the way across Sunnydale to Giles' without having someone stop her. _Magic, of course_, she answered herself soberly, and closed the door behind her.

"Is Xander still sleeping?" she asked, glancing around the apartment. Giles nodded. "I must say, Mr. Giles, I'm impressed that you've managed to clean this place after how it looked this morning," she said with a slightly mocking smile.

"I would offer you a place to sit, but…" Giles swept his hand to indicate the eradicated living room furniture.

"Of course," she said with a polite nod. Buffy was sure that she wasn't the only one to notice how Marie-Claire was carefully not acknowledging Jenny's presence, or the way Jenny's mouth tightened. This must be the banishment thing that the Lady had pronounced that morning after Jenny had cast that freaky spell. Thinking about the agony of the healing had Buffy wincing, so she stepped forward and joined Giles.

"So, Giles said that we had to talk about what happens to Xander now," she started. The pleasantries were starting to grate on her. After the last two days, she just wanted this to be over. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed, and then wake up and go to school and see Xander and Willow and Giles and Oz and Cordelia waiting for her in the library, wanted to joke and gossip and talk about inconsequential things like the math test she'd either skipped or flunked last week, she couldn't quite remember which. "I thought that the demon was out of him now."

"The Stoírm has certainly been cast out of him, but there are still a wealth of things to be decided," Marie-Claire answered. She met Buffy's eyes and didn't condescend, she noticed, and that did a lot to raise the woman's estimation in Buffy's mind. "The most pressing is, obviously, if the Stoírm has an opportunity to simply try the same trick over again."

"But there are other things to worry about?" Buffy pressed.

"Certainly," Marie-Claire nodded. "The first, obviously, is the vampire Angelus. You can rest assured that he will not let Xander go quietly, which is something of great concern to both Sunnydale and Xander's physical and most importantly emotional well-being. The second is Xander's powers. I'll need to inspect your memories of the Dance of Souls to see quite what has been unleashed, and what steps to take in that instance. Also, the Tiocfee ar la, who most certainly will be waiting to finish what their master started. And finally, there is cleaning to be done – although the magic of the Hellmouth seems to do a great deal to quiet the concerns of the people, the news tonight carried many stories of the freak weather incidents and the noises coming from this neighborhood. The coven is quite concerned with secrecy, you understand, so we'll have to wipe our presence from here."

"Oh," Buffy said. "Well, if that's all…" She giggled quietly. "Not too much left to deal with, is there?"

"The worst is over, Buffy," Marie-Claire said, her voice gentle, understanding. "The rest is just the aftermath. What you've accomplished this day is nothing short of astonishing. Don't let the cleanup overwhelm you."

"I just want it to be over," Buffy whispered. Marie-Claire moved forward and placed a gentle hand on Buffy's shoulder.

"It soon will be," she said calmly. "Now, where is Xander?"

"He's asleep upstairs," Willow said guardedly. "Why?"

"I'm going to perform a magical scan, to ensure that all traces of the possession are truly gone from his body. This will also help him to heal faster, at least physically," Marie-Claire answered matter-of-factly. "You'll be aiding me, I presume? That is, assuming you've recovered from this morning."

"I'll be fine," Willow said strongly, standing up. Determination sparkled in her emerald eyes, and Marie-Claire smiled softly.

"I don't doubt that," she said somewhat wryly. "You know, I'm of course honor-bound to offer you a place on Avalon to continue your magical studies. On a more personal level, I'd practically leap to have you train there." She and Willow shared a slight smile, and Buffy had a feeling that Willow had done that weird mind-beam thing she'd been working on where she shot a thought right into your head. From the look on Marie-Claire's face, Buffy had a feeling she knew what the thought had been.

Willow turned and led Marie-Claire up the stairs, Cordelia and Oz both following them. Buffy curiously headed up herself, and she heard Giles right behind her. Jenny, she noticed, had opted to stay downstairs. Jenny trusted Marie-Claire, but she didn't want to be around her. Buffy didn't blame her; it looked like anyone who was part of the magical community Avalon seemed to be maintaining would do their best to shun Jenny from their company. How depressing, and just for one stupid spell, Buffy thought. If she were Jenny, she wouldn't want to be in the same room with her old teacher for long either.

Xander lay much like she'd left him, in the middle of the big bed, cocooned in blankets, a slight frown furrowing his brow. He looked so much like the boy her mother had allowed her to have over for a sleepover with Willow that Buffy's breath caught in her throat. Despite everything, no matter what bad feelings were between her and Xander now, Buffy knew that it had been worth it just to get _this_ precious innocence back.

Instinctively, she and the others stood back as Willow and Marie-Claire stood next to the bed. Marie-Claire held a hand out to Willow, who grasped it. Then the woman said something softly in a language Buffy didn't know; a soft light seemed to flow from her hand, touching Xander softly. Willow's forehead was crinkled in that way that she had when she was absolutely concentrated on something. Buffy couldn't see much of anything, but she just knew that Marie-Claire was allowing Willow to see every step behind the spell, teaching her the enchantments. It seemed frightening somehow that Willow was able to pick up and master new spells so fast.

She shook that thought off as the gentle, pulsing light flowed with liquid laziness over Xander's form, glowing brighter in places and darker in others. After a long moment, it simply faded out of being, until there was mostly darkness in the loft once again. Willow let go of Marie-Claire's hand and swayed slightly. Oz made as if to help her stand up but she waved him off and determinedly stood straighter, on her own two feet.

"So?" Cordelia demanded, glancing between the two of them. Willow shot her a reproachful glance and pointed downstairs. Cordy sighed and marched down, throwing them all an imperious look that demanded they follow. Buffy was pleased to find that she still had it in her to be amused at the look on the Lady of the Lake's face as she helplessly followed where Queen C had demanded. "So?" Cordelia repeated once they'd all assembled back in the living room. Jenny was in the kitchen, brewing tea, listening in but not interfering.

"The diagnostic was what I'd hoped," Marie-Claire reported. "The Stoírm has completely left Xander's being. He's whole once again."

"That's good news, right?" Buffy asked.

"It's exceptionally great news," the witch confirmed. "This simplifies things much more. There is only one thing left to do now – Buffy, if you'd sit down next to me and Willow, please?"

"Why?" Buffy asked, though she was already moving to comply.

"We're going to view the memory in your mind of this morning's events, what you saw and experienced within Xander's soul, and how the Stoírm was expelled," Marie-Claire explained. "It's painless and I doubt you'll even feel it; it will be like watching a movie within your own mind. That should answer any lingering questions we have about what to do next."

"What do I have to do?" Buffy asked practically.

"Just sit down here, next to us. Willow, do you know this spell?" Marie-Claire asked. Willow jumped slightly in surprise.

"What spell?"

"It's called the Mindwalk, one of the ways to view a memory," the other woman explained.

"Well, Miss Calendar's been teaching me to read auras and stuff like that," Willow said haltingly. "Sometimes I pick up surface thoughts but I've never tried to actually go in someone's mind before."

"How long have you been reading auras?" Marie-Claire asked, staring at her.

"Um, like a month?" Willow laughed weakly. She'd never been comfortable in the spotlight. Buffy nudged her foot and gave her a smile. Willow shrugged slightly.

"Hmm," said Marie-Claire. After a moment, she shook her head slightly. "Well, I'm going to teach you how to cast this spell. It's a useful thing, something Mr. Giles could use to see something that Buffy unconsciously noticed during a fight." She beckoned Willow over to her and Buffy could see the usual eagerness Willow had to learn something new. Buffy nervously sat down next to them.

"Usually, we cast a protective circle and use representations of the elements, but all that's really required for this spell is relaxation," Marie-Claire said, her voice reverting to full-on teacher mode. "Buffy, I'm going to give you a little push toward relaxing. When we're finished, you're going to feel a little sluggish, but this should pass quickly. Alright?"

"Fine," Buffy said. She just wanted to get this over with – there were many things about this morning she'd rather not dwell on. Marie-Claire leaned forward and gently touched Buffy's forehead. It was the strangest feeling, really; like a soft light was slowly moving through Buffy's body, like she was in the sparkling waters of the Pacific ocean at her favorite beach when she was a child, her and her cousin Celia floating, rocked by the waves, Aunt Laura calling at them exasperatedly to not go out so far. The sun was shining down…

Marie-Claire's voice came from far away, saying something to Willow that Buffy couldn't make out and didn't much care either. This was a lovely place. Something was weird, though; she couldn't really say how she knew but she just _knew_ that she wasn't alone here. She could feel two powerful forces, alien, moving through her memories. She was relaxed, though – one was Willow, and her essence felt like Willow-hugs and books and computers and fresh-cut grass, and from Marie-Claire she could feel goodness, and that was good too. Buffy closed her eyes and continued to float in the ocean of memory within her mind.

Buffy was vaguely aware that behind her eyelids she began to see a vision, like a movie playing only far too realistic. She saw herself and Angelus within Xander's mind. The movie paused and played more slowly as they met the child/creature that called himself 'Alex', saw the way he tried to impress them (and more particularly Angelus). The movie moved forward to the battle on the beach, to the way that Xander and Alex had joined into one entity, the resulting fight, the explosion. And then the kiss, the way Angelus had kissed him and how she had kissed him, the memories that had played and the feelings she'd felt. And then they were outside of the Circle of Psyche and Xander was violently recoiling from Angelus and Buffy felt her own memory pause on the look of pain on Angelus' face, and she knew the pause was something _she_ herself had built in because she remembered that look more clearly, and suddenly she wanted the movie to be very much _over_—

And then it was, and she opened her eyes slowly to see that Marie-Claire was discussing something with Giles and that Willow was talking quietly to Cordelia and Oz, holding Oz's hand tightly. Buffy felt energy start to return to her loose body and her sore muscles felt a little less sore. Maybe there was something to that meditation stuff that Giles was always trying to teach her. Buffy eased herself slowly to her feet, and the whispered conversations stopped.

"Are you alright, Buffy?" Willow asked worriedly. "We thought you'd passed out."

"Nah, I'm good," she said, stretching lightly. "I could use some water, though."

"Here," Jenny said, reappearing out of the kitchen. She'd already had a glass waiting, Buffy noticed, and she gave Jenny a grateful look as she took a long drink.

"So," Buffy said after the cotton-mouthy feeling had been washed out, "did we find out what we needed to find out?"

"Yes, I think we did," Marie-Claire answered her. "I've been discussing things with Mr. Giles, and I think that we've come to a fairly reasonable conclusion. I'll lay it out to all of you:

"Essentially, we're dealing with four large problems in regard to Xander. The first is the largest and most potentially dangerous of them all. Xander's heritage has been awoken within him. From his birth father, the Stoírm, as Buffy has ascertained, he has inherited the ability to wield certain elemental powers regarding the weather. From his mother's bloodline, he has inherited a certain natural magic – powerful, certainly, but unfocused. Together, these two power sources have the potential to grant Xander a large amount of power. The problem is, obviously, that he has no conscious control over these powers, and no training in using them. One option is to try to bind Xander's powers again.

"My own opinion is that we should stop trying to ignore the problem and instead simply _deal_ with it. With that in mind, I will assign a witch from Avalon to travel to Sunnydale and tutor Xander to give him control. We will bind _part_ of his powers, so that as he gains more control he can safely unlock those powers. Given that his…_orientation_, I suppose is the term, doesn't give to childbearing, this may very well be the final solution."

"Sounds good," Buffy said cautiously. "So he'll be able to, what, shoot lightning out of his eyes?"

"Great," Cordelia huffed. "Now not only am I now the _only_ powerless one here, I'm also going to have to deal with Xander wanting to give himself some lame-ass comic book name and make himself even _more_ of a geek, thus murdering all of my chances to eventually climb back to the top of Sunnydale's social mountain." She looked up at the sky with a very put-upon expression, as if to ask the gods why they hated her.

"Please," Buffy said. "The day that you allow one of your friends to limit your social standing is the day that you decide tweed is the new spandex." Cordelia shuddered eloquently. Then she said, "Point." Buffy nodded magnanimously.

"Are they always like this?" Marie-Claire asked, bewildered.

"Absolutely," said Giles. "Care for some tea?"

"Alright, then," said the Lady of the Lake, looking slightly ruffled. "So, now that's settled, we'll move on to the other problems. And no, by the way, I don't foresee Xander having the power to shoot lightning from his eyes."

"He'll be so disappointed," Willow said with a smile.

"Won't we all?" Oz asked, breaking his silence.

"As the Lady was saying," Giles said exasperatedly. Buffy and Willow at least had the grace to look chastised and glance down. Cordelia sighed and pulled out a nail file from god knew where and began to clean her cuticles.

"Yes – I'm sorry, I'd assumed the werewolf was mute," she said after a moment.

"His name is Oz," Willow said defensively, and for a moment it looked like lightning would shoot out of _her_ eyes.

"My apologies," said Marie-Claire swiftly.

"It's cool," said Oz cooly.

"You were saying…" Buffy prompted.

"Yes," said Marie-Claire, snapping out of it. "Well, the second problem is obviously clean-up, as I was saying earlier. We'll have to reintegrate Xander back into Sunnydale as normally as possible, with as few questions about his absence as possible."

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem," Willow said confidently. "We can just say that he was visiting a sick uncle or something. I can do some hacking and come up with some legitimate travel papers and things. I can even invent a family member if you wanted."

"Willow, how would you _know_ that you can invent a person real enough for the government to believe they existed?" Cordelia asked as she examined one of her fingernails. Willow flushed.

"Willow, you're supposed to use your powers for _good_," Buffy sighed dramatically.

"She's actually an evil mastermind bent on world domination," Oz acknowledged. "It's fun."

"Well, the more realistic and legitimate the better," said Marie-Claire, taking control of the conversation again. "You see, the third problem is obviously Xander's emotional well-being. As you know, Buffy, the subconscious part of Xander that has more control over his powers is now slowly integrating back into Xander himself. While we're dealing with a problem of this psychological delicacy, we'll need to keep Xander's emotional well-being as stable as possible.

"Which is the next question I'd like to raise: where will Xander be staying? Because I certainly can't condone his returning to his parents, not at this juncture."

"Well, for the moment he can stay with me – or, at the hotel I'll be living out of until my apartment is repaired," said Giles after a moment. "I'm sure that we can figure something out after that."

"That should be splendid," Marie-Claire nodded. "He clearly regards you as a father-figure already; it will help to provide a more stable home." Giles looked both surprised and pleased at this, and Buffy smiled slightly and shared an 'aww' look with Willow. Cordelia smirked and seemed to pull a brush out of thin air as well, and began to work through her luxurious brunette tresses. _Bitch_, Buffy thought without heat. The last conditioner she'd invested in had been a complete flop and her hair couldn't even pretend to look as good as Cordelia's. Of course, her mother had mercilessly needled her about not trying before buying and was now making Buffy use the entire bottle before she'd allow her to get new conditioner. _So unfair!_

"And, of course, the fourth problem…is, well, the vampire. Angelus." Marie-Claire looked uncomfortable, and Buffy could tell it was due to the memories that the witch had viewed through Buffy's mind. Buffy stiffened. "Whatever is decided—"

"I'm going to kill him," Buffy said flatly. "That's what I should have done _months_ ago, and then this whole mess would never have started in the first place. I'll do what I have to do."

"Buffy," she began, but Buffy could hear the pity in the woman's voice. She was just starting to feel normal again, the banter among her friends lifting her spirits. She couldn't handle pity now; she'd break down. She narrowed her eyes and Marie-Claire subsided. "Yes, well, if that's dealt with." She looked listless for a moment, not sure what to say next. "I suppose that this is the end of it. You'll hear from us soon, Mr. Giles." She nodded politely and headed out of the apartment, vanishing into the night, her white form fading evanescently into the moonlight, like a goddess herself.

Buffy stared into the night and sighed. _Angel_, she thought wistfully, tears springing to her eyes. Then she blinked furiously and cleared the tears away, shutting the door firmly on the tantalizing breeze that had once signaled the arrival of what she'd thought she loved most in the world. _Where are you?_

***

The clothes still smelled like Xander, and it made him want to rip something's throat out. He'd gone back and sifted through the ashes, of course, after the explosion, when he'd still though that Xander was dead. He'd found that some of Xander's things in the chest that he'd had for clothing had survived. At the time he had wanted them for the scent, to have something of his sweet boy's to remember him by. Now, the scent was swirling through his being and driving the blood thirst to painful heights. But even the thought of draining some meaningless human was enough to make him curl his lip. He hungered for Xander's blood so deep that it hurt, and he knew that nothing else would possibly satisfy him.

They had moved on from the funeral home, since the Slayer had found them there. He had no doubt that Buffy would make good on her promise and devote her efforts toward killing him. Since his experience with her recently, he wanted to ensure that he was at full strength when the fight came. He wasn't looking forward to it – not that he had any doubts that he'd win, in the end, no matter how hard it would undoubtedly be. The world had yet to see a Slayer like Buffy, he knew. But he would kill her. What galled him was that he knew that it wouldn't…_please_ him to see her dead. Not three months ago he'd have dismembered her and fucked what was left while she was still alive before ripping her head off her shoulders to keep as a trophy, and done it gladly. Now…

Hissing in rage, Angelus stuffed the clothes back into the charred remains of the chest and stormed out of the room. He would kill _someone_ and drain their blood. He needed his strength, and he wouldn't see himself starve the way that his weak, disgusting soul had forced him to do. Spike had found them an old mansion on the outskirts of town, a sort of cross between the ancient castles of the old country and the modern castles of America, something that suited Angelus' tastes perfectly. He knew that Spike had done it in an attempt to please him. Ordinarily, the thought that his wayward Childe would try to appease his rage so thoughtfully would put him in a good mood, but nothing was ordinary anymore.

He swept downstairs and was pleased to see that no one was left on the main floor. So far, they'd turned three new minions, and he knew that Spike and Drusilla were busy rebuilding the empire that they had inherited from the Master's pet, the Anointed One. Perhaps he'd turn one tonight. Angelus shut the door behind him and slowly stalked toward Sunnydale. He needed to let his rage build, the vampire figured. He needed to regain the clarity that he had lost these past months, return to the darkness from which he had been born. He needed a truly nasty kill tonight – maybe a child, something horrific that would terrorize the humans in his town, would remind Buffy who she was dealing with.

Angelus deflated as he realized that his restless feet had taken him right back to the Harris house. There was simply no avoiding it. His _Xander_, his _boy_, his sweet, sweet boy, had rejected him. Not only rejected him – he'd had true fear in his eyes at the thought of Angelus' touch. Angelus had thought to set the boy free, make him the demon he was born to be. He'd thought of the power he could control and how he would have Xander with him through eternity. He had never realized how much power those so damnably _human_ and _innocent_ chocolate brown eyes had on him until they had recoiled in fear from his very touch.

The pain was unfathomable. Xander's death, that would nearly destroy him – nearly had, when he'd thought the boy was dead. But he would have grown on, gotten stronger from the pain, perhaps. But rejection…He thought back to the look on Darla's face when he'd thrust the bolt of the crossbow through her chest, stabbing unerringly through to her heart. _"Angel?"_ she'd whispered, the pain on her demonic face so strange to him, who had never seen her as anything other than the cold, golden goddess who had created him. His betrayal…Xander's rejection…

Angelus froze as headlights cut the night and nearly penetrated the shadows that he stood in, by the old oak tree that led up to Xander's window. Tony Harris, the reek of drink pouring from his skin, stumbled out of the junky, beat-up car and wove drunkenly toward the stairs. Rage began to build in Angelus' core as Tony hollered incoherently at Jessica, who just yelled back. This repulsive, fat, drunken _bastard_ had dared to lay finger on Angelus' Claimed? Why hadn't he killed him? Because _Xander_, lovely, sweet Xander, had protected him, him and his whore mother who stood by and watched her son get beaten, so caught up in the pathetic tragedy that was her life that she couldn't care. Because _his_ Xander was too _good_ to let them die for their crimes.

"_Don't touch me!" Xander yelled, jerking away from him, fear in his eyes, eyes that had once whispered 'I love you' across a room and made Angelus feel as if he were flying, as if he could taste the redemption his soul had longed for, and then made him cross a room to make love to his sweet boy again and again_—

"Don't touch me," Angelus whispered dully. Those were Xander's words to him. His face rippled into its true, ugly demonic visage and his fists clenched, sharpened nails cutting into his skin, bringing sweet pain and the scent of blood into the air. The vampire threw his head back and roared his pain to the night. There was silence from the Harris house. _Make it so_.

The door was ripped easily from its hinges and he threw it across the living room so hard that it cracked into pieces against the far wall, rattling the wall itself and making pictures crash to the cheap, stained carpeting. His boy, who deserved a palace, living in this _filth_. _Don't touch me!_ Angelus stalked slowly into the house, his lips curling back. Tony Harris, who had once been happy, once been strong, now screaming and dropping his alcohol. His massive, meaty fists, fists that had once beaten _his_ boy so carelessly, now twitching in terror. Angelus roared in pain and rage and shot forward.

"You dare touch my boy?!" he roared, hysteria hissing through his voice. "YOU DARE TOUCH MY BOY?!" He hurled the disgusting human away from him, and Tony crashed through the television. The drunken fuck landed on his back, screaming in pain and terror, the glass cutting through his skin. Angelus gagged at the thought of drinking it. Instead he turned to Jessica, who was backed up against a wall, staring at Angelus, her eyes huge and dark, her face slack. He took a step toward her and realized she was whispering to herself, over and over:

"nonononononononono"

She was beneath his notice. Beneath his contempt. He turned instead to the thing on the floor and picked it up. "You'll never hurt him again," he breathed. "Never." His hands trembled as Tony keened and whined like a dog in his hands. He grabbed his greasy hair and yanked with all his strength. There was a sickening crack and a meaty tearing sound as Tony Harris' head was jerked nearly halfway off. His blood poured out in a scarlet waterfall, and Angelus stepped neatly aside to avoid the disgusting substance. He held the man dispassionately through his final death throes. Then he finished the job and tossed the head at Jessica's feet. She started screaming. Angelus had a feeling she wouldn't stop for a long time.

Good.

He felt exhaustion filling him and he lost that moment of blissful satisfaction he'd achieved at eliminating the sources of Xander's pain. Instead the pain of Xander's loss cut through him like acid-tipped blades and he stumbled slowly up the stairs, toward _his_ room. Reverently, Angelus opened the door. It was exactly like he'd left it when he'd last been in here, taking Xander's clothing. Whimpering like an animal, Angelus drew the blinds closed and laid down on Xander's bed, letting the scent of his beautiful, sweet boy, now lost to him, wash over him. He bathed in it like a penitent seeking baptism, and he slowly fell into dark dreams with Jessica's insane screaming singing him a nightmarish lullaby.

**A/N:** Finally we reach the end of yet another twenty-page chapter – but hey, at least it wasn't a thirty-forty page chapter like the last few (ugh)! Now, I must promise this – Xander and Angelus will actually speak to each other next chapter, so watch out for that! Also, we get to meet Xander's new tutor…hmm…

Thanks for reading the update, looking forward to some reviews (hint). :) See you next time!

(Oh...and by the way, has anyone else recently had trouble posting chapters to the website? Because this update would have been up two days ago if the site hadn't glitched.)

Sincerely,

PyroPadawan.


	26. XXIII: Swamp Ophelia, Broken Reflection

A/N: Okay, so I know 5 in the morning on Monday doesn't quite count as end of the week, but still, here it is. I'm not entirely sure how happy I am with this chapter, but on the other hand, it gets done what it needs to get done. Be warned: plenty o'angst and darkness lie ahead, so I tried to throw in some light humor where I could.

The title to this chapter is inspired by the Indigo Girls' ballad "Touch Me Fall" off of their supremely excellent album _Swamp Ophelia_. The imagery was just too perfect for this chapter that I had to adapt it in there. The quote was also hugely appropos, so I borrowed it from the superb _Buffy_ season 8 comics. If you're a _Buffy_ fan, they're _so_ worth it. I'm not so into getting each comic as it comes out, so I just wait till they come out as graphic novels, but yeah. Amazing!

What with all of that out of the way, read on for:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XXIII—

_Swamp Ophelia (Broken Reflections)_

"Bad day. Started off bad, stayed that way." – Buffy Summers (_Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 8, Vol. 4—Time of Your Life_)

_Cypress moon_

_I'm bald in June_

_Like the granite in a stream_

_Swamp Ophelia, I'm torn down_

_Let your waters let me drown_

_._

_Touch me, I'm so beautiful...._

**Indigo Girls, "Touch Me Fall" (_Swamp Ophelia_)**

Xander looked down dully at the broken mirror. His reflection stared back at him, shattered, fragmented, a reflection of his insides instead of his outside. _Maybe_, Xander reflected pensively, _no matter how much glue you shove in the cracks, no matter how you try to fit the old pieces back together again, the mirror is always going to be broken, and you'll never be able to make the reflection look the way it used to look. Maybe the mirror stays shattered, and there's nothing you can do about it._ He wrapped his arms around himself and leant up against the bathroom door, sinking slowly to the floor. Maybe his reflection would never be whole again.

More than anything, Xander wanted to turn the clock back. He wanted this to never have happened. Never, never, never…

**Two Days Earlier**

Xander woke up in a strange and _way_ too plushy bed, and automatically he searched with both body and mind for Angelus next to him, but he found nothing. He was alone. _Weird_, he thought, since the sun was obviously up, and since when did Angelus invest in windows? Maybe the court had convened for some special vampire power meeting. Xander had a very odd thought of Angelus in a business suit, sucking down coffee as one of his underlings presented something on the projector.

He stretched cautiously and winced as his muscles started screaming volleys at him. Since when had _he_ been fed through a meat grinder? Because that was what it felt like, and he was _so_ not liking this. Normally when his muscles protested it was because they hadn't tried that position before and it was normally a _good_ ache—Xander cut his thoughts off with a blush. He glanced around him. The room was strangely familiar, but it was nowhere in the factory that he'd seen. In fact, it looked like he was in an actual _house_. Wouldn't that be just like the vampire, to move them all and not even bother waking Xander up, just for the hell of it?

Just then, Xander spotted a book on the bedside table. It was enormous, and it was old, and it was meticulously well-kept with a special bookmark in it so as not to screw up the pages. It was a very Gilesy thing to do, and though he knew that Spike actually did enjoy reading (reading and torture, alternately) there was no way that the brash British vampire would be _that_ anal retentive about the condition of his…tomes. Not that Spike _had_ tomes. He thought. In fact, this mahogany theme was very restful and very English, and more and more Xander had the feeling that he _knew_ exactly where he was, but for some reason his mind wouldn't tell him.

Well, the last thing he remembered was falling asleep exhausted after Angelus had started experimenting on him to see how far this Cruor Aduro mind-meld thingy went, and that had been fun for the first hour or so, before Xander had passed out from sheer pleasure—_stop that now_, he told his growing erection firmly. _We're likely prisoners in a strange place, Xander Jr. This is no time to be a teenage boy!_ He swung his feet off the side of the bed and experimentally tried to stand. His muscles grudgingly accepted, though he nearly stumbled. Okay, vampire sex was interesting and marathon-like, but every part of his body felt like Xander had just tried to do the Tour de France _sans_ bike.

Come to think of it, he was dressed in a severely shredded white t-shirt and equally trashed khakis. _Okay, Angelus is good, but even _he _couldn't dress me without me waking up_. And, also, Angelus was _way_ gay about fashion when it came to dressing Xander to be seen by other vampires. As far as Angelus was concerned, the less clothing Xander wore in their bedroom, the better. So, these clothes? Definitely not something he'd have in their closet thingy that Angelus kept trying to call some fancy French word that Xander laughed at him for.

Something tickled at the back of his subconscious, but it was a very painful something, so Xander chose to ignore it. That jacket hanging over the back of the reading chair was looking quite tweedy, Xander noted soberly. The tickling was becoming something of an aching pressure, and the pain was really starting to grow quite fierce. That was bad. Xander instinctively reached for that place in his mind where he could _feel_ Angelus, but there was only silence. That was _really_ bad. Angelus only couldn't be felt when he was far away, like when he was hunting. And Angelus would never leave Xander unguarded if he was hunting. And Lucien was _not_ outside his door, because he didn't have a door in this bedroom, just stairs. Familiar stairs. Painfully familiar stairs.

The pain was becoming a throb, but Xander desperately tried to fight it back. Slowly, his heart in his throat, he crept forward, step by painful step, toward the top of those stairs. _Stairs_, he thought, and there was a flash, like a movie memory, and _Jesse was sneering at him, saying those awful awful words and then the _pain _as he was falling down those stairs and screaming Angelus' name in his mind but Angelus was _gone _and he wasn't going to help Xander out of this nightmare_—

"No," Xander whispered as the pain metamorphosed into a knife that began to dig into his skin. _Something sick, something oily and _evil _creeping crawling through his very _veins _and it's too much too much to fight and he's falling into darkness and pain and he knows that Angelus has abandoned him to this_—

"No," Xander whimpered desperately as the knife was suddenly coated in acid and it was crawling through his veins. Memory cruelly slammed into his waking mind as the events of the last forty-eight hours that he'd so desperately repressed came rising to the forefront, demanding to be dealt with. There was a bathroom downstairs, Xander remembered, and he stumbled down the stairs, the gorge rising in his throat. Frozen in tableaux as he hit the last stair were every painful thought that he'd tried to not think about while he was with Angelus – Buffy, Willow, Cordelia, Oz, Giles, Jenny Calendar – all gathered in the destroyed living room like living emblems of the destruction of the best days of his pathetic life, and Xander sobbed aloud and then he was racing to the bathroom and crumpling to his knees as he vomited desperately into the toilet, again and again, sobbing, fighting to breathe.

Giles was suddenly there, mopping the sweat off of Xander's brow, rubbing his shoulders, murmuring comforting reassurances as Xander fought for air, and that was _bad_ because Giles should be yelling at him and treating him like the dirt he was, and yet he found himself _hating_ Giles and he hated himself for that because he _couldn't_ hate Giles, and Xander just sobbed all the more because he had the sense that he'd lost something precious and he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Xander, it _will_ be alright," Giles whispered, but it seemed important to tell him how _not_ alright it was.

"I feel like every train in the station has a part of me that was good on it and they've all left and now I'm on the track all alone with everything _bad_ and no one ever finds me," Xander sobbed desperately, and then he was throwing up again, and after a moment it all went black again, blissfully black.

***

"Oh, my lord, will he be alright?" Joyce Summers asked frantically as Giles emerged from the bathroom. Joyce had been waiting for Buffy when Giles had dropped her off. To Buffy's extremely pleasant surprise, after the expected rant about Buffy's "play at amateur detective, I mean, _honestly_, Buffy, you aren't living in a TV show!", Joyce had then frantically hugged her daughter and called the school to explain that Buffy would be absent the next day. After some much needed sleep on both their parts, Joyce had taken Buffy right back to Giles' to check on Xander. They'd found Willow already there. Oz had crashed on Giles' couch cushions the night before. Cordelia had arrived soon thereafter.

"I think so," Giles said hesitantly. "He's going through…quite a bit."

"And you never told me whether you _found_ anything last night, Buffy," Joyce said worriedly. "I mean, God only knows what's happened to Xander all these months – could he have been _raped_?" She folded her arms. "Maybe his parents should have him see a therapist; it could take years to get over something like that. Speaking of which, where _are_ his parents? Shouldn't they be here?"

"We tried to call them last night, but there wasn't an answer," Willow said uncomfortably.

"Hmm," Joyce said, pursing her lips. "Well, let's at least move him back up to a bed." She moved Giles out of the way and wetted a washcloth in the bathroom sink. She carefully mopped the sweat and vomit from Xander's face, then wrung the cloth out and put it in warm water. "You're lucky that storm didn't ruin your bathroom or your kitchen, Mr. Giles; they're the two most expensive rooms in the entire house to fix," she commented absently as she placed the warm cloth over Xander's eyes. Giles carried Xander up to the bedroom, and Joyce clucked worriedly about Xander's weight loss.

When they'd gone upstairs, Buffy sighed and buried her head in her hands. "He looks _awful_," she whispered.

"Well, of course, you would too if that had happened to _you_," Cordelia said.

"It's not like he was raped," Buffy muttered meanly, then instantly felt awful for even voicing the petty thought aloud.

"What?" Cordelia asked.

"Nothing," Buffy said quickly. Cordelia gave her a look, but Buffy avoided her eyes. She wasn't going to go into detail about what she'd seen in Xander's mind about his and Angelus' relationship, not to him or to anyone. In fact, it'd probably be more on the healthy side for _her_ if she worked on completely forgetting it anyway. Willow frowned, likely because she _had_ heard Buffy. She, Buffy and Giles had never mentioned to any of the others that Xander had gone with Angelus willingly. Oz and Cordelia didn't need the extra stress, anyway.

"What are we gonna do?" Cordelia asked after a moment. "I mean, really. It's not over, not all the way. God, if Angel was here—"

"Angelus," Buffy corrected her flatly. "There's a difference."

"No there isn't," Cordelia responded, her eyes narrowed. "And don't give me that look. Angelus _is_ Angel, or whoever Angel was when he was human, just with demony badness. Angel _is_ that demon with a soul and a conscience. So don't try and tell me that they aren't really the same person, because that's why none of us can kill him, because all we see is _Angel_ and we don't _want_ to see the demon that's bent on torturing all of us to death. He already almost _did_ torture Xander to death."

Buffy couldn't think of anything to say to that, and a sort of funereal silence descended downstairs. Joyce and Giles slowly came down. "How is he?" Willow asked, breaking the stillness.

"He's pale and whimpering. I think that he's starting to deal with what happened to him, which is good," Giles said after a moment.

"Willow," Joyce began, then paused. "Look, back in LA I did some volunteer work at a battered women's shelter. And people who go through traumas like this…it's possible that he'll never quite be the Xander that you knew before. But what's important is that he has a support network of friends that aren't going to treat him any differently."

"I didn't know you volunteered there," Buffy said after a moment. She and her mother shared a smile, but Buffy's felt forced. Joyce put her arms around Buffy and pulled her into one of those very special mom hugs and Buffy felt like crying again. But then she didn't want to start crying again because if she did she wouldn't stop for a long time, and Xander needed her more than that right now.

"Alright," Joyce said after a moment. "I'm going to go in to the gallery, Buffy. I'm going to expect you to go right back to school tomorrow, so don't even try to stay up so late tonight." She fixed her daughter with a very stern look. Buffy smiled blithely, and Joyce somehow managed to look even sterner.

"Yes, ma'am," Buffy said meekly. Joyce nodded in satisfaction and kissed her daughter on her forehead.

"Mr. Giles, if you need another adult hand around here, you know you can call me. And someone really should get in touch with the Harrises," she said as she gathered up her purse.

"Thank you, Miss Summers," Giles said. "And we'll keep trying." She nodded and headed out the door, into the sunlight. Buffy smiled wistfully at the beautiful California day, the one that her mother and really all of her friends belonged in. And yet here they were in the wreck of an apartment, stuck in the gloom. What a depressing thought.

"Fine, Buffy, your mom gets mom of the year awards," Cordelia sighed, as if passing on a victory. Buffy blinked.

"Um, thanks?"

"Whatever," Cordelia said, automatically reaching a hand up to make sure that her hair was coiffed.

"I'm going to go sit with Xander, make sure that someone's with him when he wakes up," Buffy announced after a moment.

"Do you want any company?" Willow offered.

"Nah," Buffy said, shooting her a smile. "You stay here and help Giles out. And maybe see if you can find out what happened to Xander's parents – not that they really _care_, I'm sure, but still…"

"We'll try," Willow assured her. Buffy smiled gratefully and slowly climbed the stairs. In the loft, Xander lay on top of the covers, looking pale, the warm washcloth draped over his eyes. Buffy smiled tenderly and ran her hand through Xander's hair. He sighed in his sleep and muttered restlessly. She settled herself in the chaise lounge next to the bed and drew herself into a cross-legged position. Slayers, she'd learned, didn't require as much sleep as the next person. Instead, if she wanted, she could be way patient and just sit, sort of like a trance. She could snap out of it when Xander woke up.

Cordelia's words bounced around restlessly in Buffy's mind, refusing to go away when she tried to let them go. Was she right? _Of course she is_, Buffy thought. _You knew from the night that you found out he was a vampire that Angel was, for all intents and purposes, a demon stuck in a dead body. But you wanted so much for him to be that mysterious lover that came and went with the night that was every girl's dream – Angel was the safe harbor after a night of fighting tooth and nail for life and _sanity_, and then in the biggest ironic twist ever their moment of true happiness led to her being face to face with what – not who – she'd allowed herself to love._

Buffy felt a tear slip down her cheek as if in mourning for all innocence lost in life as she stared at Xander's once-whole body.

***

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Willow asked Oz. They were standing out in Giles' courtyard. Willow was glad that it was springtime; Giles' landlady always filled the courtyard with beautifully scented red and yellow flowers in the flowerbeds. She soaked up the sunlight and felt the growth in the air. It was a fresher feeling than the apartment. She was planning on offering to do a cleansing and banishing ritual for Giles after it was rebuilt just to get the stale and negative energies out.

"I think that her mom was right," Oz said after a moment. "It's going to take a lot of time. There's a lot that went on that we just don't know about. Buffy and Xander are the ones that got hurt more than anyone in all of this."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked. He smiled gently.

"Willow, I'm a werewolf," Oz said calmly. "I can smell and sense things that other people can't; I don't have to be fully wolfed out. I know that Xander went with Angelus willingly because he's had a serious yen for Angel for months now."

"He has?" Willow gasped. "You mean, Xander's _gay_? And he didn't _tell_ me? Does Buffy know? Did he _tell_ you? Why wouldn't he say—but he's always gone after _girls_!"

"Not seriously," Oz corrected. "I mean, you don't pick and choose who you fall for. And he's never really _gone_ for a girl, scentwise, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," Willow said, blushing furiously after a moment. "Okay, so…so Xander likes _guys_. Why wouldn't he _tell_ me?" And Oz breathed a sigh of relief; _this_ was what Willow was _really_ upset about.

"Well, the gay thing, I mean, it's complicated, Wills," Oz said after a moment. He took her hand and led her over to the wrought-iron courtyard furniture. "It's not like religion or even skin color. People…react differently to this. He was probably scared, and confused, and most likely wishing that it wasn't true, which would be why he chased after Buffy so hard at first."

"Well, I know that," Willow said, waving her hand. "I mean, it's not like I _care_ – my parents are psychologists, I know it's not a choice or a disorder or anything. But we've been bestest of best friends since we were tiny. I _remember_ when he went away to Avalon – not that either of us knew that was where he was going at the time, but still, I remember him being gone and I remember him coming back. He stole my Barbie! Which, y'know, is suddenly seeming more significant than it _did_, at the time," she commented absently. "But still – why couldn't he have trusted _me_?"

"Because you're a scientist, Willow," Oz explained.

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" she asked, confused.

"You question things because you like to understand them. One of the first things you would have done is ask how he knew. Would you want to explain to _him_ that you'd gotten lusty thoughts for Buffy's beau?"

"Oh! Um, no," Willow admitted. "I mean, that would be even more awkward than me suddenly getting lusty thoughts for _Buffy_."

"Yeah, actually," Oz acknowledged. They sat in thought for a moment, and then blushed simultaneously, and then blushed harder when they caught the other one blushing.

"Not that your conversations aren't adorable in their fits of geeker passion, but next time close the door behind you," Cordelia complained from the open doorway. "And, honestly, Willow, if you hadn't figured out that Xander's batting for the other team by now you're more hopelessly with the non-computerized crowds than I thought."

They all paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I wonder if Xander's the guy or the girl?" Willow asked hesitantly after a moment.

"Oh, _please_," said Cordelia dismissively. "Xander? Complete submissive type. I bet if he and Larry ever—"

"Shut the bloody door!" Giles yelled from the kitchen.

***

Spike was starting to get worried about Angelus. The master vampire had returned from hell knew where during the daytime, carrying a trash bag full of stuff, covered in blood, up through the sewer entrance near the mansion they'd moved into. The big demon had then retreated moodily up to his bedroom, and it was clear that he wasn't sleeping because Spike could hear him pacing and muttering furiously to himself through the stone walls.

Angelus and Drusilla had gotten home the previous morning, late, Angelus looking like he'd been dragged through hell and back and Drusilla silently staring after her sire. When Drusilla knew enough to not speak aloud to Angelus it was usually enough to send alarm bells rolling down Spike's back that Angelus was not to be fucked with that day. The fact that they'd returned home looking _that_ beat up after that lovely little spike of dark power had rippled through Sunnydale's vast underworld without droopy boy was likely the source of Angelus' current tension.

Drusilla had gone straight to sleep, rising later to go hunting by herself that night. Spike wasn't too worried about her. Ever since they'd stolen Angel's blood to resuscitate her, Drusilla had become more and more self-sufficient, and the ties that Spike had thought would bind them for eternity as they had done for more than a century were loosening by the day. It was a two-way sort of thing, surprisingly enough. At one time Spike would have thought that nothing in the world would hurt more than his sire's rejection, especially after Angelus had left them all. Instead he felt…sort of free, oddly, like the weight of Drusilla's madness had been lifted from around his neck.

Spike was smart enough to know that he wasn't like most vampires, most likely thanks to Drusilla's being his sire and all. He'd retained much more of his humanity than others, although when it came right down to it so had Angelus, and that was probably why the old demon always went after what made him feel most human so viciously. And Spike was starting to like Sunnydale – this Slayer was more fun than any Slayer he'd faced before. She'd almost bested him in battle, too, before her own bloody mother had hit him over the head with an axe. Spike smirked at the memory.

Aside from the rather interesting thoughts of the Slayer, there was just the Hellmouth itself. The dark energy of the mystical hell-hole was enough to put some extra bounce in any demon's step, and the fact that by virtue of his bloodlines Spike had inherited a seat of power over most of the town's undead populace couldn't be seen as anything but a bonus. What Spike was really starting to get quite concerned about was that Angelus was likely going to bullocks it all up now that he'd lost Xander.

This whole crazy problem with Xander was…well, crazy, and Spike was just sick of it. So what if the boy was some sort of mystical whoosit, it didn't mean jack shite to Spike. The boy wasn't aware of his powers and he just yammered on and protected the Slayer – when he wasn't fucking her boyfriend, that is. Sure, Spike could appreciate the boy's puppy-dog eyes and golden skin…and alright, a smooth, round, juicy arse, to be sure – not that Spike was _looking_, because then Angelus would castrate him, publicly, and though Spike was sure that vampires could grow their balls back it wouldn't be fun.

But the real issue was that Xander had stirred something powerful in ol' Angelus, and that Claiming had been wonky from the start. Angelus had been completely whipped by the boy's every whim and the boy had been able to just go right inside the vampire's mind, which, by all rights, since the mystically dead didn't have the same brain patterns as other beings so usually mind readers couldn't get much on them. And then there was the whole matter of the boy being the reason the factory blew up. Now, Spike could admit to himself that he had more balls than brains, but usually that signaled a power not to be fucked or fucked with, and Angelus was doing both.

Spike heard Angelus' pacing falter, and he sighed. Something was going to come to a head in good ol' Sunnyhell soon enough, and when whatever happened happened, when the chips fell, it still remained to be seen whether or not Spike would side with Angelus. Maybe, he thought with a wicked smile, it'd be worth it to see whether or not Saint Buffy was a natural blonde. Now _there_ was a problem worth pondering.

***

Buffy jerked out of her trance when Xander opened his eyes. He didn't look disoriented this time, instead he just blinked a few times. There was a darkness in his eyes that didn't used to be there, and Buffy sighed, letting out a breath that she hadn't been aware that she was holding. Reacting to the sound, Xander turned to see her sitting there. Guilt and shame flashed across his eyes, and Buffy tried to find the anger that she knew should have been there, but for the moment, there was nothing.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Xander whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Xander," Buffy said, shaking her head. Then she slowly crawled into bed next to him and pulled his head down onto her lap, stroking her fingers through his hair as the tears started falling on his cheeks. They stayed like that for a long time, taking comfort in each other's presence. Buffy felt a tear falling down her cheek, and she wondered if she was crying for Xander's pain or for her own. _Maybe it doesn't matter_, she thought. The sun slowly started to set behind the curtains of Giles' bedroom window.

***

"I'm starting to get really worried about Xander's parents," Willow said after a moment as she hung the phone up. "I mean, I know they drink a lot but Mrs. Harris never lets the phone go off more than three times before she answers it to scream at whoever it is to stop calling."

"I love how you know drunk peoples' phone habits, Willow," Cordelia said as she continued organizing Giles' possessions into keep and throw away piles. "This throw pillow is going in the garbage pile."

"I'm a rebel that way," Willow responded absently, staring at the phone.

"But that pillow isn't ruined, Cordelia," Giles said mildly from the kitchen.

"It's ugly as hell," Cordelia shrugged, placing it firmly in the trash pile.

"I like the pillow," Giles said firmly. "Whatever isn't ruined, we keep."

"Fine," Cordelia said with a frown. She picked up a ceremonial knife that had gotten knocked off the wall at some point and calmly shredded the ugly brown piece of offending furniture. "_Now_ it's ruined and going in the trash pile." Giles stared at her in horror before stalking toward the kitchen to make himself some tea. Cordelia smirked victoriously and kept sorting.

"Willow, do you want to drive by and check on them?" Oz offered. "Before the sun sets. Their house is only about five minutes from here, right?"

"This is _Sunnydale_," Cordelia reminded them scathingly. "What _isn't_ five minutes away by car?"

"Point," Willow conceded, before she stood up to follow her boyfriend out the front door.

"Be careful," Giles reminded them softly. They all looked up at the meaningful tone in his voice as he glanced up the stairs. "Let's all remember that Angelus will most assuredly _not_ give Xander up that easily. And heaven knows what sort of grudges he is still holding against Buffy. The fact of the matter is that to a torturer like Angelus, any one of Xander _or_ Buffy's friends is now a target to vent upon, or even to try to use as a bargaining chip against one of them. Always carry at least a cross and some holy water. You're no match for Angelus in a fight, Willow, no matter what spells you know."

"We'll be careful, Giles," she promised him. "We'll be in and out before the sun sets. Just to check and make sure that they're okay." She showed him the cheap cross necklace that she and Oz had gotten each other on their one week anniversary. "And Oz still has some slaying supplies in the back of his van, so we're set."

"Good," Giles nodded.

"Why am I always a target lately?" Cordelia demanded, aggrieved.

"Karma," Willow stage-whispered. "What?" she glanced around innocently. Cordelia shot them both death glares as she and Oz quickly headed out the front door.

***

The Harris house was surreal, Willow thought, almost haunted as the van slowly approached. Oz's proverbial hackles rose as he looked at the house. Willow's senses went on full alert. "The lights are on," she said weakly. It was weird, those lights being on, because it was still late afternoon and there was plenty of light. It was the weakest way she could voice the _wrongness_ screaming at her, but it was what she said.

"Willow," Oz said warningly, but he subsided. Willow nodded tersely and moved the cross necklace out to full visibility, just in case. Then she whispered a quick protection spell. She didn't tell Oz what a drain it was; the magic that she'd used the other morning was still weakening her, but she couldn't allow herself to think of that. Besides, this was just a sort of early warning system – the spell would work enough to repel something long enough to let her and Oz get away.

Oz got out of the van first and opened the door for her. It was one of those nice automatic romantic things that he did that she treasured so much, and she clutched his hand tightly for support as they slowly walked toward the house. The whitewashed two-story was a fixer-upper. Years ago, when Tony Harris had still been making an attempt at getting out of the beer bottle, he'd kept the lawn in good condition, but that was a long time ago. Willow felt her stomach roll as she glanced at places where she and Xander and Jesse had played hide-and-seek so long ago.

There was a sickening familiarity to the _wrongness_ that Willow saw before her, and she suddenly put her finger right on what it was. Last year, at the end of that eventful school year where she'd met Buffy Summers, Willow and Cordelia had walked into school one Saturday morning to find the boys that had stood them up to set up the sound equipment for the Spring Fling dance being held at the Bronze. In the A/V room, they'd found the boys watching cartoons, or that's what it had looked like. Even then, alarm bells had been rolling through Willow's system.

They'd walked in to see bloody handprints on the cartoons, the boy's spread in sickening poses in order to best portray the vampire bites and torture wounds all over their pale, disfigured corpses. That image had stayed with Willow and likely would for the rest of her life. Later, explaining it to Buffy, she remembered saying "_It wasn't our world. They made it theirs, Buffy, and they had _fun_!"_

Now, she could feel that same wrongness pervading the air, only now her senses were superior and heightened by witchcraft, and she could feel the haunted quality of the air like chalk in her veins. She squeezed Oz's hand tighter and slowly walked up the creaky staircase and pushed the unlocked door open. Willow took in the shattered, bloody living room, and what was left of Tony Harris' body without flinching, without vomiting.

Jessica Harris wandered through the living room, her eyes huge and glassy, her pupils dilated. She reminded Willow violently of Lady Macbeth, and she half expected to hear Jessica scream "Out, damned spot!" as she wrung her hands. There was nothing they could do for the woman. Instead, they climbed back in the van and went back to Giles'. They had to stop along the way so Willow could violently lose her lunch on the side of the road.

***

"How much do you remember?" Buffy asked after an eternity. Xander had cried himself out on her lap, and they'd sat in companionable silence for what felt like an hour.

"I remember everything," Xander said bluntly. "It was…I felt so helpless, like I was stuck in a prison full of pain, and I could feel _me_ doing things, but I couldn't do a thing to stop them. _He_ felt so…oily, so evil, I wanted to be sick but I couldn't even make myself puke."

"That's awful," Buffy whispered.

"No, the worst part was when I realized that my body was hurting my friends. I tried so hard to come back then, but every time I tried he'd just fight me back. I felt so damn helpless! And now I feel weird – like part of me is the same old Xander, but like I could just reach out to the moon and crush it…" Xander sat up to regard her seriously, an odd expression on the face that she was so used to seeing look like a puppy dog, so eager to please, so perpetually cheerful.

"Do you think you could?" she asked him, just as seriously.

"I really friggin' _hope_ not," Xander said. "I have enough problems with _math;_ the _last_ thing I need is someone telling me that I could destroy planets with my hands."

"Technically, the moon isn't a planet," Buffy said lightly. Xander stared at her in disbelief before he chuckled. She smiled back hesitantly. Seeing the hesitation, Xander sighed.

"Buffy," he whispered, a world of desperation in his voice. Buffy could allow herself to be angry and vengeful at that moment, she felt, so she cut him off.

"Xander. I love you. You're like my brother, and I'm so happy to have you back and in one piece that I couldn't even put it into words." She touched his cheek lightly. "But on _that_ front, you need to understand that things are not of the good between us. But that doesn't mean that we can't work through it. I just need you to let me be selfish and give me some time here."

"You're not selfish, I'm horrible, I feel—" Xander started, but she cut him off again.

"Xander, not now, okay?"

"Okay," he said after a moment. They looked away from each other. Buffy sighed. It _felt_ selfish, to not confront this when clearly it was something huge that they both needed to work through in their relationship, but she couldn't handle it right at that moment, and every once in a while, if she wanted to stay sane, Buffy felt that she could take a moment and be a teenage girl. Finding out that the guy that you'd thought had a huge crush on you was actually lusting for your _boy_friend, and then having said boyfriend go _after_ the first guy, well, it was sort of awful-making, and Buffy was firmly not thinking of Xander and Angelus making whoopie. And who the _hell_ thought of calling it that in the first place? she wondered.

"So, what all did I miss while I was out?" Xander asked finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Well, the Lady of the Lake said—"

"The Lady of the Lake is both real and _here_?" Xander asked incredulously.

"Oh, God, don't ask me to tell you _that_ story," Buffy sighed. "It's _way_ long and crazy-making, and I'm sure that Giles'll tell you the whole thing from memory anyway. Yeah, she was here. Actually you've met her before; she took you to some special school when you were really little."

"Marie-Claire?" Xander asked, his eyes huge. "_She's_ a _witch_?" Then he frowned. "How come I don't remember this?"

"Because Avalon put the whammy on your memories when you were little," Buffy explained.

"I went to _Avalon_ when I was a kid? And I don't even _remember_ it? What a jip!" Xander exclaimed indignantly. Buffy smirked.

"_Anyway_, since your mojo's getting up and running now after…what happened, Avalon's going to send some teacher here so you can control it and not make the world go boom."

"Oh," Xander said intelligently.

"Um…we're trying to get in touch with your parents, but we've pretty much decided that you're gonna stay with Giles for a while. If that's okay with you," she said quickly. Xander nodded. "And my mom's gone into _way_ momma bear mode when it comes to you, so expect her to be checking up on you constantly. She wants to get you into therapy to deal with your kidnapping 'issues,'" Buffy said exasperatedly, making quote signs in the air.

"Really?" Xander asked, and Buffy felt a pang and a real desire to pound Xander's parents into the dirt as she saw the pleasure her mother's concern caused Xander.

"Yeah – actually, come to think of it, we could tell her your teacher is your therapist and smooth that whole nightmare over before it starts," Buffy continued.

"Not a bad idea," Xander conceded. "Provided I like whoever it is."

"Well, as long as that's what's worrying you, I think we don't have to worry too much about your potential evilage," Buffy sighed as she stood up.

"Hey! I'll have you know I can be a scary evil," Xander protested, affronted.

"Whatever," Buffy tossed over her shoulder as she headed downstairs. Xander followed hotly on her heels, but he stopped short when he realized that Cordelia, Giles and Jenny were in the living room. Buffy kept going, leaving the choice up to him. Xander had a sense that if he chose to cowardly hide underneath the covers upstairs and pretend to still be asleep rather than face them, she wouldn't squeal. But it _would_ be pretty wimpy to try to hide from them now, especially after the last two days.

"Hey, guys," Xander said softly as he took the last step down the stairs.

The silence was the kind that you usually only read about, where you can hear a pin drop, but at the same time Xander thought that it was likely the loudest silence he'd ever heard. Then Cordelia gave something of a gasping sob and she was hurtling across the room in a very _un_-Cordelia Chase way to grab him in a desperate hug and Giles was grinning in his gruffly affectionate way as he too grabbed Xander in what was likely the first hug the British man had ever given him. Xander wondered how he could feel so surrounded by love and so guilty and shamed at the same time. Even so, he sank into the comfort of a miniature Scooby cuddle puddle. This was good—this was _home_.

"I hope you're hungry," said Jenny from the kitchen as the embrace slowly split apart. "We've been making dinner." She gave Xander a hesitant smile that Xander didn't understand at all, but maybe she was still guilting over the whole Angel curse thing, so he just smiled at her. There was enough guilt in this living room with _him_ in it, after all. He tried to remind himself that he should feel like big guilt-having guy, but somehow the way that even though the apartment still looked crappy, there was a place set on the counter for him, like somehow in Giles' ruined flat he'd found the home that he had never had with his parents.

"Yeah, actually, I'm pretty starved," Xander admitted. He was ravenous; he hadn't eaten that he could remember since the day...night before the ceremony on the beach—He shied away from the thought. Food—and, _hey_, water!—suddenly sounded like big priorities. "Thirsty, though."

"Of course," Giles declared, sounding like a host who'd forgotten that his guests were coming. Cordelia nudged him and rolled her eyes and Xander couldn't help chuckling, like it was a normal day with the Scoobies. He shouldn't feel like crying, really he shouldn't, he tried to tell himself. Buffy sighed in pleasure as she grabbed at the spaghetti that Jenny had thrown together out of what was left of Giles' larder. Xander laughed somewhat meanly at her, and she stuck her tongue out. The sheer amount of food Buffy could put away in one sitting was astounding, but then her Slayer metabolism kept her going without much body fat all the time. Cordelia tried to pretend she wasn't jealous as she declined all tomato sauce and went for the salad.

It was strangely like a big family get-together, discussing their day over dinner. They all skirted the topic of Xander's absence by mutual consent. Instead, Cordelia determined to catch Xander up on everything in Sunnydale that had happened in his absence.

"Well, for starters, the swim team actually started winning, which was lovely until they morphed into demonic _fish_ things and _ate_ people," she sighed dramatically as she speared a leaf of lettuce.

"Demonic fish things?" he asked in disbelief as he scarfed down his second plate of spaghetti.

"Total rejects from _Creature from the Black Lagoon_," said Buffy with a shudder. "You remember Gage, the cute one that everyone had a crush on? He went mucosy and popped right out of his human skin right in front of me. Of course he got away because I was so busy gagging, but it wasn't that much of a tragedy considering that once he started winning at sports he and the whole team turned into a bunch of jerks." She squared her shoulders self-righteously.

"Buffy got irritated and went a little overboard rejecting them," Cordelia explained. "And then of course Snyder tried to blame the entire thing on Buffy, _again_."

"I don't know _why_ that useless little rat has it on for me so bad," Buffy sighed. "Even poor principle Flutie didn't watch me _this_ closely."

"Which probably explained why the idiot locked himself in a room with a pack of kids who'd just eaten a raw _pig_," Cordelia observed cuttingly. "I mean, the man wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but still, even _he_ should've thought to _maybe_ bring the security guard in?"

"Speaking of school," Xander said after another swallow. Funny how he wasn't full yet. "Where's Willow?"

Everyone at the table paused so delicately that Xander had a feeling that he would've missed the entire silent exchange if he hadn't been watching for it. Was Willow avoiding him? The thought sent a knife through his heart and punched a hole right through it. "Willow's running an errand that I sent her on," Giles said, breaking the silence too brightly. "We weren't sure when you were going to wake up. She wanted to be here when you woke."

Xander felt a huge swelling of relief, but a small stab of worry. "But she should've been back by now?" he guessed, glancing outside. The sun wasn't that far away from setting. He could sense it by the time even easier than looking at it, and he felt a pang of pain rolling through him as his head suddenly filled with hot golden eyes and vicious fangs and a beautiful sculpted body over him, owning him...Cursing internally, Xander squeezed his eyes shut and fought the images away. It was like battling a living thing; he was starting to get that damn _itch_ that just crawled over his skin whenever he'd been away from his vampire for too long.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Buffy said lightly, laying a comforting hand on Xander's arm, obviously seeing Xander's sudden discomfort and misinterpreting it. "Oz is with her, and you know he'd never let anything happen to her, even if she _was_ in danger. Which she isn't. In danger." He gave her a small smile, but he could feel pain building in his chest and he clenched his fists under the table as he desperately fought it back.

"Aren't you full yet?" Cordelia asked critically as he reached for another helping. Xander stopped as he realized that Cordelia was right. He'd put away three big helpings of spaghetti and two plates of salad. There was practically none left for anyone else. And he wasn't even close to being done. The entire meal was unsatisfying, no matter how good it tasted. Xander could tell why – he was having a big hankering for steak, or, really, _meat_.

"Really, how long has it been since you ate, Xander?" Jenny asked. He could see the sympathy on her face and he knew then that it would be so _easy_ to lie to them, to all of them. He could tell them that he was starved, that he was raped and beaten and used. Everyone but Buffy, he could fool. Everyone but Buffy and himself.

"About two days, I guess. I didn't get a chance to get dinner before I...got out," Xander said vaguely. He could say that much, couldn't he? He didn't have to tell them that if he'd so much as made reference to wanting food from a specific restaurant in Sunnydale, then Angelus would get it for him no matter the price, and most likely hand-feed it to him as a prelude to seducing him. Angelus loved to watch Xander eat, and participate in Xander's eating, some master-human thing that Xander understood and loved himself. It was how Angelus took care of him and showed him that he cared.

Or, that was what Xander had thought, before he'd seen...He longed to reach up and finger the Claim scar on his neck, but a bolt of illness shot through him at even the thought of the mark, so identical to each and every one on the bodies of the wretched human slaves that Angelus had kept in that filthy, disgusting basement...

"_No," Xander whispered._

"_Oh, yes, my dear. _This_ is where you're gonna end up. If I were you, I'd just kill myself now, because these little bastards are too miserable to even try anymore. We keep them for in-house snacking and the occasional hot human fuck when we're in the mood. That's gonna be _you_, sport. That's all Angelus wants you for."_

"Speaking of school," Giles said after a moment, changing the subject. "We feel that it would be best if you started as soon as possible. Willow has come up with a plan to fabricate a sick relative that you have been taking care of these past months. That way you should be able to re-integrate into Sunnydale without too much undue attention or questions. She assures me that we'll be able to verify that you've been on a temporary homeschooling situation. I'm confident that with tutoring and coaching from both Willow and myself, you'll soon be caught up in your schoolwork."

"Sounds like a plan," Xander said, wondering if Giles could hear the hopelessness in his tone. The mere thought of reentering Sunnydale High School and trying to be the same old Xander Harris was enough to feel like a crushing weight was squeezing the air out of his lungs. And entering the library, where every memory of Angel resided, waiting to pounce? Where he would have to try to face Buffy every day with this wretched _thing_ hanging between them, trying to pretend like nothing had changed?

Not seeing Angelus every day?

Xander's spaghetti sauce was starting to look like blood on his plate and he uncomfortably pushed it away from him.

"We don't have to talk about this tonight," Jenny said softly, rescuing him. He shot her a grateful look and Giles nodded sheepishly in understanding.

"Yes, of course," Giles said, sounding flustered.

"Actually, I need Willow to get home so I can hang with mom tonight," Buffy noted as she took her plate to the kitchen sink. "I'm frankly stunned that she let me stay here today, so I just _know_ that she's got a mountain of homework waiting for me. The joy!"

"Ugh, home," said Cordelia joylessly. "Where the parents live."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Buffy said mercilessly.

"You can talk, with your mom buzzing around campaigning for mom of the year," Cordelia said venomously. Buffy might've responded, but instead she screeched in horror as the tap water turned rusted brown and started spitting left and right.

"GILES!!" she hollered, aggrieved. "GET YOUR APARTMENT FIXED!!"

Xander was forced to crack a smile as Cordelia laughed meanly and Jenny and Giles rushed up to try to stem the flow of disgusting, stinky water. Buffy tried to wipe the brown off of her skin, but she was staring mournfully at the light blue shirt she was wearing, which was clearly either ruined or needed some very expensive dry cleaning.

"Yeah, you just laugh," said Cordelia. "This is _your_ evil body's fault." That blasted the wind right out of Xander's tentative sails. The weak happiness he'd tried to distract himself with emptied as he contemplated what his actions had caused him. And he couldn't figure out if he felt worse because of the guilt or because of the stupid Claim-bond thingie that was making him miss Angelus like a junkie missing his fix of heroin. "It was a joke, Xander," Cordelia said softly as she realized that her words had hurt him. Xander felt disgusted that he'd managed to make _Cordy_ feel guilty, too.

"It's okay, Cordy," he whispered as the other three yelled at each other and at the sink and at plumbing in general as they combated the foul nastiness vomiting from Giles' once-pristine taps. Cordelia sighed and held his hand in hers, her strange strength flowing through him and abruptly he felt like crying again. After a moment the water had been stopped, and Giles led them all to his courtyard and asked them to wait. After a few moments, he appeared with two bags, both full, and his phone.

"I'm going to call a hotel and make arrangements. Tomorrow I can start engaging repairmen," he explained as he shut the door behind him. Xander turned and surveyed the courtyard. The sun's fiery death was glowing like blood over the red flowers. He turned back to the people in the doorway. Everything was reminding him of Angelus. He clenched his fists furiously. Even in the sunlight he couldn't get away from the damned vampire that had started this whole mess!

Just then, an engine shut off nearby. Oz and Willow appeared, hand-in-hand, as they came down the steps to the courtyard. Or, rather, Oz was holding Willow steady. The redhead looked even paler than usual, and her eyes were horrified.

"Willow!" Buffy gasped, darting forward. Willow collapsed into Buffy's hug, and Oz gratefully leaned back against a wall.

"Good lord, what happened?" Giles asked, hanging up the phone. Xander froze. That weird sixth sense that he'd begun noticing in the factory was starting to twinge again, in a way it hadn't done since he'd woken up. There was badness in the air. Something was about to change, something bad that he wasn't prepared for and yet he knew that didn't matter.

"We went to Xander's house," Oz said helplessly, and Willow shuddered. That was when the knowledge seemed to leap into Xander's mind from Willow's. He froze so completely that he couldn't even feel his heart beating. Numbness radiated from his mind, allowing him to deal with the shock.

"What happened?" Buffy asked.

"My parents are dead," Xander answered. Everyone in the courtyard jumped; he'd been so silent that all of their focus had been on Willow and Oz. Willow slowly detached from Buffy to stare at Xander with her heart in her eyes. "My parents are dead and Angelus killed them," he continued with absolute certainty. "He did it yesterday after I made him leave."

"Willow?" Cordelia asked. Willow nodded wordlessly, and Cordelia gasped in horror as Giles squinted furiously, fighting back some thought or other. Xander could watch this all calmly from the detached area in his mind where he resided now, where the thoughts and the hurts couldn't touch him.

"Xander," Giles said firmly, stepping forward, surprising him. "This is _not_ your fault, and don't you _dare_ blame yourself for the actions of an unhinged vampire." He grabbed Xander's shoulders and clasped him with strength. "This isn't your fault," he repeated, and Xander could feel a small crack forming in the shield he'd so hastily thrown up against his emotions. The shields shattered, so fragile against the wall of so much pain.

"He _killed_ them, Giles," Xander gasped desperately. "He _promised_ that he wouldn't kill them!" It seemed important that they know this. Buffy turned away, her fists clenched, as Cordelia held on to Willow. "He _promised_, Giles, he _promised_," Xander sobbed. He wanted to be dead, he wanted to be nothing. This was all his fault, it didn't matter what Giles had said. If he had just not been such an idiot and played with magic in the first place, Angelus would never have noticed him. If he'd been a good person, he wouldn't have gone with Angelus in the Bronze. And if he wasn't such a loving fool, he would never have trusted a vampire to keep its word and he would have made sure that his parents were all right.

"Where am I going to go now?" Did his voice really sound so lost, like a child who couldn't find his parents on the playground? How did that child ever find what he'd lost?

"You're going to stay with me," Giles said, still in that same firm, comforting voice. "We'll figure this out, Xander. Together."

The somber scene in the courtyard froze in a silent tableaux of mourning as the bleeding sun finally heaved its last breath and sank behind the hills, leaving a bitter and uncertain night in its wake, the shadows swallowing all that was left of the light.

***

Angelus presided over his Court. It was a pale mimicry of his former coven, but still, he had forces loyal to him again. Only five vampires had survived both the Slayer's attack on the factory as well as the subsequent explosion courtesy of...the boy, whose name Angelus refused to contemplate: himself, Spike, Drusilla, a minion named Allen, and an older vampiress from the Master's court, Lucy. Spike and Drusilla had since Turned three each, and Lucy had chosen only one. Though small, Angelus had instructed that each human be culled from the masses carefully, each having shown bravery when confronted with their would-be Sire and each having a glimmer of strength that older vampires could sense.

Allen had been put in charge of the new minions, which made him happy and more loyal to Angelus than he already was. That left him with himself as the King of the Court, Spike and Drusilla, his Childers, Lucy as his adviser, and Allen as the minion's lieutenant over the six newborn vampires. Only twelve, but of that twelve each and every one of them showed strength, courage, cunning, and a will to survive. They could be honed into an army, an organized vampiric force the likes of which the Hellmouth hadn't seen since the Master had reigned before he'd been caught beneath the earth.

The rest of the vampires that ran around Sunnydale at night, choosing to live in solitude or in filthy nests of two or three, were laying low or running away after the Slayer's little holocaust mission at the flaming wreck that used to by Willy's Alibi Bar. The word on the street maintained that Willy had finally had enough and fled town. That was a minor inconvenience; the disgusting little weasel had been incredibly useful for information and other shady dealings kept far from the light of day. Angelus figured that sooner or later most of the leaderless solitary vampires would come to him. Vampires were group creatures by nature. Most vampires didn't evolve from the minion mentality. The weaker flocked to the stronger for the protection they offered.

At the moment, Angelus was somewhat satisfied as each of his new vampiric children was introduced to him. His forces had chosen well. The first was a male, blond, handsome, and muscular. He looked vaguely like the Nazis of Hitler's Germany. "Eric," announced Allen. The lieutenant had taken to his task with zeal. The next was a female, a redhead with harsh features still wearing the Fish Tank biker top that she'd died in. "Helen." And so it went on, all six strong and sure, and all six looking up with sharp eyes, each having already learned to control their vampiric face and show their human countenance.

The last to be announced was Lucy's Childe, the first that she'd Turned in many years, or so Angelus had heard. A female, she was young, no more than fifteen. She had black hair and dark eyes, with lightly tanned skin. She stood loosely, with relaxed muscles in a stance he recognized as battle-ready. She'd clearly had martial arts training. Her name was Ella, and he could tell at a glance that she was lethal. She met his gaze steadily, with no fear that usually permeated the minions. In another time, another life, he'd already have her in his bed.

Now, the thought filled him with disgust.

"You've done very well," Angelus said, praising his forces. Allen preened and Lucy looked satisfied, but Spike and Drusilla maintained uncharacteristic silence. Angelus didn't show that he wondered what they were thinking. He nodded and showed his approval of his new forces, finishing the ritual that would keep Allen and Lucy satisfied as well as enthrall the new vampires. Ella shot him a look that he could not easily read as she left with the others to the quarters in the attic that Allen had prepared for them – far better than the squalor that his minions had lived in in the factory.

Unaccountably weary from the rituals of court, Angelus allowed himself to sag in relief when he was left in solitude save Spike and Dru. "What's up _your_ arse, then?" Spike asked crudely after a moment. Angelus turned without the anger that should have been there at his Childe's insolent tone. All the passion that fueled him seemed to have been leeched out of him, and he knew exactly why. "Still moping after droopy boy?" Spike demanded.

"Shut up," Angelus hissed, the anger starting to simmer. But Spike would not be silenced.

"I won't," the younger vampire said flatly. "You're off your bloody rocker enough as it is, and I saw what he did to the factory. Think I didn't pay a lick o'attention to what you n' Dru were playing at? Think I didn't notice what you looked like when you came home without him? You don't hunt, you don't torture, you just glare. I'm wondering if I should be more worried about _him_ coming here burning us all, or _you_ finishing losing it and fucking the rest of us over."

"Xander is no threat to us," Angelus said quietly, his fists clenching.

"The hell you say!" Spike snarled, apparently not catching the menace in Angelus' soft tones. "If you want to sit there like a pussy-whipped _bitch_ and—"

Angelus moved in a whirlwind of leather and rage as he suddenly had Spike pinned up against the cold stone wall of the main living area of the mansion, his fangs bared in fury as he slammed Spike with vicious violence against the wall over and over, until the back of Spike's head was leaving bloody patches on the wall. Spike yelped in pain and shock and genuine fear as Angelus beat him bloody with utter fury radiating out of every plane of his body. "Shut _up_!" Angelus roared as he let Spike drop to the floor.

Drusilla stepped forward, finally breaking her silence. "You hunger. You must hunt," she said softly, placing a hand delicately on his heaving shoulders.

"I don't want to hunt," he snapped, shoving her off.

"You must drink, Angel," she insisted. "You make yourself weak, denying yourself. The prince shall never return to the deck if the king is too weak to maintain." Her eyes bored into his, large and dark and entrancing, and he spat out a curse and a snarl as he shook off the drowsy hypnotic compulsion of Drusilla's glamour.

"Fuck," he cursed, knowing that she was right. Spike watched him warily from his crumpled position on the floor. Angelus smelled the blood scent in the air and he hungered to drink from Spike, but he knew that if he bit the vampire now he would have to worry about Spike's revenge schemes for months to come. Bowing to the inevitable, Angelus cursed again before heading out into the night air.

The air was humid and fetid, the Hellmouth's miasma practically glowing in the wretched heat of southern California. Angelus' angry steps began to slow down as he headed towards the center of the town. He'd overreacted to Spike's taunting and in so doing he had lost control, an unforgivable thing. Even more, he'd given Spike ammunition to use against him. Angelus was losing control of himself quickly, and he couldn't think of a way to regain his easy mastery. The fact of the matter was that Spike was right: he _didn't_ feel like himself. But Spike had never been tied to any creature on Earth the way that Angelus was tied to his boy; how could Spike appreciate the hell that Angelus was going through?

His boy, his lovely, his precious, perfect boy, had rejected him. His boy was _scared_ of him, which was worse. But it went deeper than that. He'd Claimed Xander, and it had been beyond those meaningless marks of ownership his kind put on their slaves. He'd marked Xander as his _Mate_, as his companion, as his Blood Bond. He'd given Xander immortality that they might spend it together. Xander was his Cruor Aduro, the one human conjoined through ancient alchemy to Angelus' essence. And Xander _loved_ him, which shouldn't be important but it _was_. Xander waited for him to come home and made him laugh and attacked him with kisses and the sex had been earth-shattering at least.

Now his boy was in the enemy's house, a house his Cruor Aduro had chosen to stay in because he no longer felt _safe_ in his master's house. The mere thought was agony, the memory of the horror on Xander's face was enough to feel like a metaphorical knife was hovering over his heart, stabbing into him viciously in some twisted echo of his long-lost mortal heartbeat. The remnants of Xander left in his consciousness, from their strange, magical joining, was enough to make him lose interest in pain. The thought of drinking blood that was not Xander's was enough to make him gag.

And what was worse was that the deeper he went into Sunnydale, the closer he got to the Watcher's apartment. And the closer he got to Xander, the more he could feel the magical compulsion of their bond urging him to find his Claimed, to soothe away his fears and take him home and make him understand that Angelus would always, always take care of him no matter what. He knew that Xander _must_ feel it as well! Surely Xander wouldn't reject him if he'd give him the chance to explain!

But he could feel sorrow and betrayal through their bond and he knew that he had broken Xander's faith when he'd killed that miserable bastard who had dared to hit his boy. He'd broken a promise to his boy. Angelus wasn't used to dealing with the consequences of his impulses, and now his bloodlust might have lost him his precious _boy_. He thought of the black plastic bag he had in his room at the mansion and snorted in disgust. He was Angelus, he who had once practically been the vampiric embodiment of the Prince of Darkness, and he had a few scraps of his boy's clothing in a trash bag so that he could keep the scent.

Miserable, disgusted, angry, Angelus wandered through the streets until he saw a young man in the street. He had long, dark hair and dark eyes, and if Angelus squinted it could have been _Xander_. Filled with..._something_, something desperate and dangerous that he could not name, Angelus ran at full speed at the man-boy who looked like his _boy_, and he grabbed him before the teenager could so much as scream in surprise, spiriting him to the nearest alley. Up close, the boy had acne and his skin was too pale to be Xander's, but gods, the resemblance was like a cool drink of water in the desolate desert.

With something like a sob, Angelus struck swift as a snake and tore viciously into the young man's neck, his jagged fangs making a wound like a tiger's bite, worrying at the torn skin with his rough tongue to keep the blood flowing. The sweet illusion died with the first large swallow of blood. The boy's blood was spiced with terror, but there was nothing in it for Angelus. After Xander, no blood could possibly satisfy his thirst. Still, he forced himself to drink till the human's legs stopped twitching. He dropped the corpse with disgust, and reared his foot back. He brought it down with a satisfying crunch on the thing's face, punishment for daring to wear Xander's features.

He felt as empty as before.

***

Xander wondered if he was being stupid or suicidal as he slipped out of the hotel room after the clock struck midnight. They were staying in the Sun Motel, Sunnydale's one hotel service. It was actually in the good part of town, so it was fairly nice and quiet and clean. Giles had booked adjoining rooms for them, so they shared a bathroom but Xander could still have some privacy. They'd put in an anonymous tip to the authorities that night, Xander had heard through the bathroom when Giles had thought that he wasn't listening. That was how he'd found out that his mother wasn't dead, just finally driven over the edge. She was in a comatose state in the mental ward of Sunnydale Hospital, and the doctors weren't hopeful that she'd ever fully recover.

It was touching, really, how hard Giles was trying to take care of him, but Xander couldn't ever tell him what had happened. He couldn't bear the look on Giles' face if he knew everything that he'd done and enjoyed these last months.

Giles and Jenny planned on going to the Harris house while Buffy, Willow, Cordelia and Oz were in school and Xander was hopefully still resting at the hotel. That way they could gather Xander's things together before the police claimed them. They'd had to stop at a small store that was just about to close on their way to the hotel that evening to grab Xander some white undershirts and sweatpants and underwear, so he'd have something to wear other than the leather pants he had showed up wearing at the library.

Xander breathed the humid, sticky night air in and sighed. He shouldn't be doing this. But he couldn't _not_ go, couldn't _not_ see. Wrapping his arms around himself, Xander headed home.

It took a surprisingly short time to get there.

_I'm waking from a dream_

_The neighborhood is green_

_All the sounds I've missed_

_All the years come down to wedding, death, and fear_

_All I've heard has been in vain_

_Like water on a stain_

Xander could taste death on the air, feel the charge of the haunted as he looked at the house that he had grown up in. He was sorry, suddenly, that it was Willow who had had to go; even before her senses had grown sharp with witchcraft, Willow had been a sensitive and caring girl who felt everything deeply. Now she had felt this too, this awful, evil horror that was radiating sickly from a house that was once a home, so many years ago.

The grass felt stiff and uncomfortable beneath his feet, and he slowly stepped forward, each step a mile, each mile paved with knives. He paused on the old, warped wood of the porch. It was his last chance to turn back, but Xander already knew that he wasn't going to do the smart thing here. Instead, he opened the door and slipped under the bright yellow police tape to step into the shattered remains of his living room.

The air reeked of blood, and the stains above what was left of the television gave Xander some idea of what had happened. He gagged, but he didn't throw up. He thanked every god he'd heard of that the body had been taken. If he'd actually had to see the body, he wouldn't have the strength to finish this. He forced himself to keep going, past the ruined living room into the kitchen, where he would sometimes optimistically dump his father's beer down the drain while Tony was at work, only to be beaten for it after Tony had to go to the store and spend their grocery money on more beer, which meant more times he'd have to steal Willow's school lunches so that he could eat.

Xander closed his eyes and breathed. "Why did you break your promise?" he asked Angelus tonelessly.

"He hurt you," the vampire responded, his voice rich with feeling. Xander had known the moment the demon had stepped into the house, his entire body still so hyper aware of Angelus that it was practically agony to not go to him, to bare his neck, to...Xander sighed, a sound full of despair. Angelus reacted instinctively and wrapped his large, strong arms around Xander's chest, mouthing wordlessly into Xander's hair. And for an unforgivable moment, Xander let him.

_Your father's killer!_ he told himself hysterically. _You're cuddling the vampire that murdered your father!_ To protect me, Xander thought wretchedly. "My boy," Angelus whispered, bending down so that his voice was in Xander's ear, driving his words hypnotically into Xander's mind. The bond between them was singing sweet fire through Xander's veins at the closeness of the vampire. There were so many moral lines being crossed here that Xander's head was spinning, but he couldn't pull away. "I've missed you, missed this."

Angelus held him in the broken kitchen, the blood in the living room congealing behind them, and Xander groaned in self-disgust as he desperately shoved Angelus away from him and threw himself out the back door, away from the scent of death and back into the humid night air. Angelus followed, of course. "Stay away from me!" Xander yelled, or tried to, but it came out so much weaker than it should have. "You're evil, you're...you killed...God!" he moaned, running his hands through his hair.

Angelus caught his wrists. "You have to listen to me, Xander!" he said, equally desperate, equally torn. "I never meant to hurt you like that! You _know_ that! I was trying to _help_ you!"

"Help me?! By unleashing _what_?! Some power source? Some world-controlling scheme! You just fed me line after line and I was stupid enough to think that I _mattered_ to you!" Xander was yelling now, scratching at his arms enough to draw blood, but he felt _dirty_. "Was fucking me fun? Was it good to see me _throwing_ myself at you? Did you like breaking me in?" he demanded.

"Don't _say_ that!" Angelus roared, surprising Xander with his passion. "You're _mine_, damn it!" Angelus didn't know what to say in this situation, had no idea what was brewing between them, all he knew was that he wanted his boy _back_. "I never meant to _use_ you— "

"I bet you said that to all the other slaves you had chained up down in the factory, too," Xander said bitterly.

"How could you ever think that I would do that to you?" Angelus asked, horrified. His boy, his Mate, in such squalor, such filth?

"Because you're a _vampire_, Angelus, which is something I should have remembered a long time ago. You're not interested in anything that's not evil. I'm _not_ evil! I'm _not_!" Xander insisted.

"You're mine," Angelus insisted flatly. "Every part of you. I'll never let you go. I'll never let you down. I'll break no other promises to you."

"Promise to make the hurt go away," Xander asked, his voice tinged in disgust and bitterness, the emotions sitting wrongly on his sweet boy's smiling mouth. Angelus reacted to the bond between them and slowly bent down, capturing Xander's lips in a kiss, gentle and strong. Xander froze, but before he even knew what was happening his arms were pulling the big vampire closer and his mouth was open and Angelus' tongue was stroking Xander's, and there was something so _right_ about this wrong, wrong thing that it made Xander want to weep and to laugh, all at once.

Throwing guilt to hell, Xander took the comfort the vampire offered, damning the consequences, and desperately groped for Angelus' pants, his fingers fumbling the buttons in his haste to open the vampire's pants. Angelus moaned so low and deep he sounded like a feral animal as he jerked Xander's sweatpants down to ruck around his knees, his huge hands cupping Xander's round ass and squeezing hard, drawing them closer together.

Xander finally got the clasp open and Angelus' massive erection sprang out, both of them moaning gutturally as their cocks rubbed against each other, but not enough, by the gods, not enough. Angelus lifted Xander up and slammed him with bruising force against the side of the house, the moon glaring down on them, Xander bathed in sweat in the humid air. Angelus suckled hard on Xander's collarbone, tasting, reassuring himself that Xander was _here_ in his arms where he belonged.

Xander furiously kicked one of the legs of his pants off and wrapped his legs around Angelus' waist, humping hotly against Angelus' erection, seeking friction. Angelus hissed his pleasure and bit down hard on his wrist, bathing his cock in blood as he rammed two fingers in Xander's tight, hot hole. Xander growled in pleasure as Angelus swiftly fingered him, opening him, hurting him in his need to join them both together as they were meant to be.

Finally, Angelus positioned himself and rocked slowly, inch by inch, into Xander. The boy gasped in overwhelming pleasure as Angelus paused, fully seated in Xander, joined as intimately as two people could be. Xander latched his lips onto Angelus' neck in that perfect place where his head could hide in his protector's neck as Angelus pulled out and slammed back in. There was pain, yes, but Angelus knew just the right angle to ram Xander's sweet spot with every thrust, and Xander saw stars as Angelus' thick cock filled him up, joining them together in a sweaty, bloody baptism.

Xander felt black flames of pleasure licking through him, a pale echo of the ceremony on the beach where a demon had been awoken within him, and he surrendered to the darkness as an earthshaking orgasm burst through his entire body, draining him. Angelus roared like a lion as Xander's honey-sweet passage milked him vigorously, and he slammed into Xander one more time before his saber-sharp vampire teeth sliced through Xander's golden skin.

The blood was like electricity and it surged through his entire body, charging him from head to toe, making him cum hard enough to see stars as he rammed back into Xander's bucking body. A swallow and he was sated, full, complete in the loving arms of his Cruor Aduro. They both sighed as Angelus' softening cock slid from Xander's bruised hole, and Angelus slowly sank to the grass, his sweaty boy sitting on his lap.

"I shouldn't have done that," Xander whispered after a long, peaceful moment. There was so much self-disgust in his voice that Angelus froze to stare at his boy, but Xander wouldn't even look at him. The boy was shaking in self-loathing, shaking so hard he looked fit to shatter as he shoved his sweats back on.

"Xander," Angelus tried, but Xander shook him off and moved away.

"You're a killer," Xander moaned in agony. Angelus moved quickly to his feet, making Xander face him. "You're _evil_."

"You love me," Angelus said helplessly. What was he going to do, deny the boy's accusations.

"I hate you so much...you make me want to die, and you make me want to stay with you forever," Xander returned, scratching at his arms restlessly again. Angelus reached out to stop him but Xander stepped back out of reach.

"This...whatever it is. We can't—_I_ can't, not ever, not anymore," Xander said.

"You can't throw this away," Angelus said furiously. "We're _one_, we're _joined_, don't you see? Xander, you're _mine_! I won't let you go!"

"Don't— " Xander yelped as Angelus lunged forward, grabbing him in a desperate move. Xander struggled furiously and Angelus held on all the more tightly, out of his head, not know what to do anymore but instinct. "Let go of me!"

"So what, you just fuck and run! You bring us together and now that you've got yourself off you throw me away like a _whore_?!" Angelus roared, frustrated beyond belief. Xander's chocolate eyes flashed expressively in hurt at Angelus' careless words, and the vampire cursed himself for a fool. How had this night spiraled so suddenly out of control into a world of pain where his boy was struggling to get _away_ from him?

"God, _please_, just let me go!" Xander sobbed, fighting all the harder to get away from him.

"You can't! Xander!" Angelus leaned forward, to kiss him again, to _show_ him, but suddenly he screamed in pain as what felt like a jolt from a tazer slammed through his system and he hurtled away from Xander, slamming hard into the side of the house. He slumped, dazed, as Xander stared in horror at his hands, at Angelus. "Xander..." Angelus whispered, holding his hand out.

Xander turned and ran, as far and as fast as he could, as behind him Angelus howled his pain to the uncaring night sky.

***

Back at the hotel, Xander stared at himself in self-loathing in the mirror, a mirror that showed a young man, his pupils dilated, his lips swollen with sex, his shirt ringed with blood from a bite wound on his chest, a look of careless power on his face as he remembered blasting Angelus away from him. He felt like a whore, remembering Angelus' cruel words. But then, that was what he was, wasn't it? He'd completely ignored every vile thing about Angelus, ignored what Angelus had done to his _parents_, for a _fuck_.

What was _wrong_ with him? Xander wondered miserably. He just wanted the mirror to show _Xander_ again, not this strange creature who hurt everyone around him. He remembered Angelus' howl of agony and he tried to make the thought go away but he couldn't, he couldn't. He brought his fist up and slammed it desperately into the looking glass.

Xander looked down dully at the broken mirror. His reflection stared back at him, shattered, fragmented, a reflection of his insides instead of his outside. _Maybe_, Xander reflected pensively, _no matter how much glue you shove in the cracks, no matter how you try to fit the old pieces back together again, the mirror is always going to be broken, and you'll never be able to make the reflection look the way it used to look. Maybe the mirror stays shattered, and there's nothing you can do about it._ He wrapped his arms around himself and leant up against the bathroom door, sinking slowly to the floor. Maybe his reflection would never be whole again.

More than anything, Xander wanted to turn the clock back. He wanted this to never have happened. Never, never, never…

***

Elsewhere in Sunnydale, Angelus stumbled back to his mansion, staggering like a blind drunk up the stairs to his room. He pulled one of Xander's shirts out of the bag and held it to his face to breathe in his boy's scent as he fell into sleep. He would get Xander back, no matter what it took, no matter if he had to murder everyone close to him. Xander would see. They belonged together, and tonight was proof of that. Soon, Angelus thought, breathing in his boy. Soon. His fangs bared in a cruel mimicry of a smile as he drifted into vampiric slumber and demonic dreams.

**A/N:** Biddy-bom! And don't you go getting all pissed about Angelus there at the end; let's not forget that he is a) a _bad_ bad guy, and b) about as cuddly as a box of razor blades. And Xander certainly has a lot to work through. Next week expect: the evil of high school! But since that angst isn't interesting enough, there's also: Buffy's mini-meltdown (you _knew_ that was coming), Willow's intuitive talk with Xander, and also, an interesting new player in the game...Xander's new tutor.

See you next time, folks!

PyroPadawan/Pfenix_Goddess


	27. XXIV: Return to the Hellmouth

**A/N: **Such a long break this time! Just to say, 2010 SUCKS. I'm sorry, but this year has been completely wretched since January 1st, not least of which including the viral infection of and crashing of my beloved laptop, which I had to wipe clean. It was only through quick thinking that I managed to keep some of my fanfiction and original fiction notes, and, since this has been such a wretched time, I've been working in _Passion_ because I get to kick the crap out of the characters much more than on any of my other stories (this probably makes me a psychopath, but oh well). I love this story, and I have respect for anyone and everyone who even bothers to keep reading this due to the infrequent updates.

**WINTER SONG UPDATE!** Since most of you here have read my other stories, I'd like to tell anyone and everyone waiting for more of the _Winter Song_ sequel, _Crystal_, that I unfortunately lost all of my information on _Crystal_ and have had to start again from scratch. The mood I'm in right now, however, I'd most likely introduce the supernatural elements into the story and kill everyone in a bloody apocalypse just to vent. Since that story is a human!verse AU, that wouldn't mesh so well, so I'm putting that on hold. I adore that story and it's very personal to me, so I won't be updating it until I feel comfortable updating it so I can make sure that it's of the highest quality. That most likely means a bit of a wait, but it _will_ be finished before the end of this school semester (that's in May for those of you not in college).

Moving on!

The second volume of the _the Passion of Angels and Demons_ soundtrack is here! The songs from this installment are really all over the map, but to give credit where credit is due, a few of these songs came from the unbelievably good _The Twilight Saga: New Moon_ soundtrack. Those of you who know me know that I didn't like the first _Twilight_ movie, so I was incredibly surprised that the second movie blew the first one out of the water and in 8 places out of 10 was actually completely true to the book.

Also, Joss Whedon's absolutely incredible sci-fi drama _Dollhouse_ was sadly cancelled; however, the second season was so fantastic that it just blew me away; honestly, on some levels, I liked _Dollhouse_ better than _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, and as _Buffy_ has been my favorite television show since I was thirteen, that tells you something. The second season also featured some absolutely amazing music, and I used a few songs from there here as well.

Anyway:

_the Passion of Angels and Demons: The Soundtrack, Vol. II_

Angel Waits (from "Passion") by Christophe Beck – _Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score_

Touch Me, Fall by Indigo Girls – _Swamp Ophelia_

Zombie by The Cranberries – _Stars: The Best of The Cranberries_

Decode by Paramore – _Twilight (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)_

Meet Me on the Equinox by Death Cab for Cutie – _New Moon (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)_

Take Me Home by Lisbeth Scott & Nathan Barr – _True Blood (Season One Score)_

Breakin' at the Cracks by Colbie Caillat – _Breakthrough_

Done All Wrong by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club – _New Moon_

Your Ghost by Greg Laswell – _Covers_

Stupid by Sarah McLachlan – _Closer: The Best of Sarah McLachlan_

Hide and Seek [Shortened Radio Edit] by Imogen Heap – _Hide and Seek Single_

Hearing Damage by Thom Yorke – _New Moon_

Underneath the Stars [Renholder Remix] by The Cure (Featuring Milla, Puscifer & Maynard James Keenan) – _Underworld: Rise of the Lycans (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)_

Lithium by Evanescence – _The Open Door_

Half a Week Before the Winter by Vanessa Carlton – _Harmonium_

Possession by Sarah McLachlan – _Fumbling Towards Ecstasy_

My Secret Friend by IAMX (Featuring Imogen Heap) – _The Kingdom of Welcome Addiction_

No, I Don't Remember by Anna Ternheim – _Leaving on a Mayday_

All Along the Watchtower by Bear McCreary (Sung by BT4) – _Battlestar Galactica: Season Three_

The House of White by Anne Dudley – _The 10__th__ Kingdom_

All the songs from the _New Moon_ soundtrack were written and performed specifically for that soundtrack, so you can't find them anywhere else. I found the shortened version of Imogen Heap's ballad "Hide and Seek" on a compilation of Grammy Nominees for the year 2007, and also on the CD single of "Hide and Seek". That particular version of "Underneath the Stars" is only available on the _Rise of the Lycans_ soundtrack. That psychotically good version of "All Along the Watchtower" is from the soundtrack to the third season of _Battlestar Galactica_. To finish it off, the final score track is from the soundtrack to the television miniseries _The 10__th__ Kingdom_.

This chapter is, as usual, dedicated to my reviewers and to everyone who has and has had to suffer through high school – sure, Buffy and Co. have some extra angst, but come on: which one of us _wasn't_ battling the forces of darkness all the way through those cursed locker-strewn hallways?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XXIV—

Meet Me on the Equinox (Return to the Hellmouth)

_Take me home, Lord_

_Oh, take me home_

_O'er the hillside_

_And o'er the sea_

_To the soft grass of the valley_

_Where Your grace_

_Shall set me free_

_._

_Through the shadows of the darkness_

_And the storms that lead me astray_

_I shall travel, forever knowing_

_In Your light, I will always stay..._

"Take Me Home" by Nathan Barr (Sung by Lisbeth Scott), _True Blood_ (Season One score album)

_Oh, never would I take you back_

_My heart was filled with love and I_

_Will wipe these tears and I will laugh—_

_If only I could make it last_

_Make it last_

_._

_I'm breakin' at the cracks_

_And everything goes black_

_It's another heart attack_

_And I can't handle that_

_Oh, love, I need you back_

_I need you back..._

"Breakin' at the Cracks" by Colbie Caillat (_Breakthrough_)

Xander had to talk to the police the next day, after Willow's internet activities. They thankfully didn't ask questions about his disappearance but instead about the last time he'd had contact with his parents. "Not since I left," Xander said quietly. "We didn't get along so well." The policeman had nodded politely, no doubt remembering the drunken disturbance complaints he'd received all too often from the Harris residence. Since Tony Harris had had life insurance through work, the state had enough to give him a funeral and a small headstone. When Xander turned eighteen he would be the sole inheritor, as Jessica Harris was no longer deemed competent to handle the funds.

Through more computer wizardry, Rupert Giles was now a relative of the Harrises, and so was able to claim temporary custody over Xander rather than have his hated aunt and uncle from San Francisco attempt anything. Xander wondered dully if Aunt Fay would even bother attending her only brother's funeral. He doubted it.

Giles had booked a repair team at an exorbitant price (paid in full by the Council as part of Giles' hazard pay (he had access to a special account as he was the 'active' Watcher of the Slayer)), who had assured him that they could have his living room and his plumbing fully repaired and ready to fill with furniture once again before the end of the week. Giles had a small study on the lower level of his apartment next to the bathroom, which would now be Xander's bedroom. The police had sent crime scene cleaners to the Harris' house, so Xander was cleared to remove his possessions.

Cordelia had raised so many comments in the hotel room the night after Giles had booked his stay there that Giles had screwed his face up in a manner that looked extremely painful and very British at the same time and said, "Cordelia, would you like to pick out the furniture for my living room?"

Cordelia's face had lit up like a child told that every present under the New York City Christmas tree was all hers, and she had taken her credit card and headed out the next afternoon to a "real" furniture store in Los Angeles. Giles had winced, but it had also been a very effective way to stop Cordelia from talking (but not from salivating at the thought). Xander was scheduled to begin school again on Monday, and the whole Scooby Gang was going to have a miniature party at Giles' apartment after the furniture had arrived (Cordelia had paid for next-day delivery and she promised Giles that he'd have an entirely new living room before the night was over). Saturday would be an all-day Willow Rosenberg Tutoring Extravaganza, free of charge, for Xander.

These were all practical, everyday things. Xander could focus on those rather than on the acid in his stomach that seemed to keep threatening to rise up and choke him every time he allowed his mind to dwell on last night. Giles was giving him space, wanting to let him have time to deal with his father's...murder. But all Xander could really focus on was the overwhelming guilt that was crawling through his veins like broken glass. Angelus was a murderer – the selfsame killer who had killed his _father_, no less! – and yet had Xander actually fought him off last night? Had he struggled, had he resisted—truly resisted—even for a moment? He wanted to blame the strange magical claim Angelus had laid on him, but surely he could have struggled through it. But he hadn't.

Even now, like fire in his blood, he could _feel_ Angelus; it was like a constant ache in his body that he couldn't get rid of. Was it his fault? Should he feel guilty about it? He _did_ feel guilty about what...had happened, but that was another thing. He just felt so frustrated and unbelievably angry. He scrubbed his hands through his hair in utter frustration and sat down on the end of his bed. He looked down at his hand, the hand that he'd smashed the mirror with the night before. It had already healed; in fact, it hadn't hurt nearly as much as it should to hit that mirror. He thought again of that feeling of static electricity that had shot through him as he'd shoved Angelus away from him last night and how the vampire had been thrown more than five feet to hit the wall.

Well, he _was_ a demon, wasn't he? At least in part? Should he be expecting this? Xander felt a powerful wave of resentment at Angelus for leaving him in this situation with nothing to guide him, nothing but his own confused feelings. Giles had mentioned in passing that an envoy from Avalon would arrive in Sunnydale at some point to tutor him on his...powers. Whatever the hell they were or what that meant. Thinking of Avalon was strange – thinking of Marie-Claire as the most powerful witch in the world rather than his kindly teacher that he'd once thought of as an aunt who even made occasional phone calls to his house to check on him was _really_ strange.

Either way, Xander knew that he'd completely wig out if he stayed in the hotel one moment longer, so he carefully shut the door to the bathroom and went out to knock on Giles' door. Giles opened the door a crack, checking, and he relaxed and swung it open when he saw Xander.

"Giles, I need to walk for a bit," Xander said. The sun was shining brightly outside, a cheerful reminder that the rest of the world was likely at Sunnydale Beach, living the sunny California life. "You know, getting kind of stir crazy and what with the craziness sort of tending to badness around me lately, it'd be of the good to walk it out, right?"

"Of course," Giles said. "Would you like some company?" The fact that Giles had actually understood his convoluted sentence had Xander feeling something that he didn't care to identify as it was particularly painful.

"Um...not right now," Xander said. "I'll just be over at the park over there." He pointed vaguely behind him.

"Just be sure to be back before the sun starts to set," Giles said with concern in his eyes. Xander's eyes burned but he blinked it down furiously.

"I'll be careful," he promised instead, and turned quickly to walk away before he said something stupid that he couldn't take back and it wouldn't be one of those good things, it'd be one of those emotional things and emotional things were very bad right now. Giles' door shut softly behind him, and his footsteps quickly drowned out the noise of the hotel behind him as he pounded pavement.

Over the years, Xander's feet had learned the streets of Sunnydale, so he let them carry them where they would. The sunlight provided the illusion of safety and normalcy that he craved, but he didn't pay particular attention to what he was avoiding or running from. Instead, he headed toward Main Street, where most of Sunnydale lived and breathed. There was The Espresso Pump, where the Scoobies had gathered for impromptu research breaks and homework nights and general Giles-bashing when they thought the Watcher wasn't listening, bitching about homework and vampires in the same sentence while mainlining caffeine.

There was the Sun Cinema, always at least two months behind the current box office hits, ensuring small amounts of business as exasperated teenagers gained cars and drove to Los Angeles to see a real movie. Xander had loved it, though; as a kid he'd haunt the theater on weekends because the old owner still showed classic black and whites even if no one but him was there to see it. Maybe the reason he'd never taken vampires seriously when Buffy had first blown into town was because he'd seen _Elvis and Costello Meet Dracula_ one time too many. Maybe it was for other reasons.

He violently shoved the thought back and kept walking, past the park where he and Willow and Jesse used to play make-believe, and past the cemetery where Willow and Jesse had been kidnapped and Buffy and Xander had charged in to save them, where Xander had seen his first vampire. He hadn't noticed it then, or maybe the adrenaline was too high for him to have noticed it, but there'd been a sick sort of recognition, even acceptance in his gut the moment he'd seen Darla's true face, a vampire, a demon…Shoving his hands in his pockets, Xander kept walking.

He crested the hill without even realizing he'd been walking up it, and then snorted as he realized that he should have known where his feet were taking him all along. The brilliant waters of the ocean shone as the sun shimmered on the waves, a brisk wind kicking a cool breeze off the water. Despite the temperature, Xander glanced around and grinned when he realized that the beach was blissfully empty, even the most avid of sunbathers driven in by the last touch of winter's breath. Xander shucked off his shirt and his pants until he was naked, and he ran and dove into the cool waters without a second thought.

It wasn't as cold as he'd thought it would be, or maybe he just wasn't feeling it the way a normal person would. He didn't know, nor did he care. Instead, he cut deeper into the water, fusing his legs together like a merman from childhood stories and pushing out into the salty water, finally surfacing in a cresting wave and sucking down oxygen before diving back down into the dark depths once more. The water called to him, rocking him in its embrace. Willow had told him that the symbol for the Goddess was water, and that some of the most powerful magic was worked with the ocean.

Xander had always felt calm, comforted, embraced by a force of light when he swam, and the ocean had always been like a second bed to him, the cradle of the waves rocking him like a mother's embrace. He didn't realize that he was crying until he surfaced again, but it wasn't the racking sobs of the night before, or even anything particularly painful. It was like catharsis, like he'd finally reached the point where he could let go of the past few months. Yes, Angelus was still out there, and yes, Xander had a lot to answer for.

But he was alive. He was free, he was with his friends, and Giles was giving him shelter and maybe more. That was more than some had, and more than Xander felt he deserved. Maybe, just maybe, he could see in the sunlight off the waters a promise of a light at the end of the tunnel, if he could only look far enough along. The road was bumpy, and jagged, but the journey was worth it, that was what Marie-Claire had always said when he was a child…

Xander wasn't altogether surprised when he surfaced again to find the Lady of the Lake standing on the beach, gazing out at him protectively as he swam. He kept his waist below the water as he waved, and she smiled and turned around. Xander splashed noisily ashore, and realized that she'd put a towel out with his clothing. He dried himself off quickly and wrapped it around his waist as he threw his underwear and pants back on. Now that he wasn't actually _in_ it, the water was starting to feel cold out in the air.

Marie-Claire turned to regard him calmly for a moment, and Xander was startled to realize that she looked almost exactly as he remembered her looking in his fuzzy, dreamlike memories of staying with her for a time in his childhood. Except for her eyes, he realized; her eyes looked older, farther away, and much sadder than they once had been.

She was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans and nothing else, one of her normal outfits that she liked to wear when she wasn't doing official things. Why he remembered little details like this when he apparently couldn't remember that she was like the grand poobah of witches, he had no idea, but the memories that he _did_ have of Marie-Claire were entirely good ones, so for the moment he just went with it.

"How are you feeling, Xander?" she asked, finally, breaking a silence that had grown awkward. The concern in her voice had him wanting to close his eyes and clench his fists.

"Why did you make me forget?" Xander asked instead, his voice coming out a bit more deferential and respectful than he'd intended.

"I wanted to give you a normal life," she answered, moving and walking past him. He fell into step beside her as she walked slowly along the shore. Her feet were bare, but she did nothing to stop the cold water edging toward her flesh. "I wanted you away from all of the magic and the consequences that goes with it. I suppose…I wanted you to have the childhood that I never had."

"Lady, I'd've traded in my childhood for anything," Xander said darkly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly, and there wasn't much more to say to that. They continued to walk in a companionable sort of silence for a while. A million and one questions were buzzing in Xander's head, but he didn't know how to raise any of them. "What's on your mind?" the Lady asked.

"Huh?"

"When your mind is whirling your mouth puckers," she explained. "I was wondering if it still did that." There was something almost wistful in her tone of voice and Xander found himself fighting back traitorous tears once more.

"Couldn't I go back to the island with you?" he burst out desperately. "Giles said that you bound all of this..._this_ back once; couldn't you do it again? Couldn't I go back to Avalon?"

"Xander..." Marie-Claire looked pained, quietly saddened, and she looked down at the sandy ground beneath their feet as if looking for answers. "Avalon isn't the place for you, little one. You want to come to the Isle to forget, and that's never healthy. The magic there has a way of...twisting that particular request. If I thought that you genuinely wanted to come back, I at least would welcome you with open arms. But you're avoiding the real issue here."

"How can I face my friends?" Xander whispered. They'd reached the small park where a group of mothers were gossiping while four small children ran themselves ragged around the tired old swing-set set back where the grass began.

"Xander, you can't pick your family, or help what your heritage is. The demonic blood within you is only as strong as you allow it to be, and you've shown time and time again that you try to help people," Marie-Claire said severely. "What Angelus did to you—"

"I _let_ him," Xander said, his fists clenching. "I went with him when he asked; he didn't kidnap me." His fists unclenched, and so did something deep within him, something dark and terrifying in its bitterness and anger. A tear slowly streaked down his face as he waited for Marie-Claire to say something. He wasn't ready for the understanding on her face.

"I know, Xander," she said softly. She took his hand in hers, and even though her hands were smaller than his there was something profoundly comforting in the power thrumming through her veins that he could now feel. "I was in your mind that night, ensuring that the exorcism was complete. I saw your thoughts. Your friend the Slayer saw them as well, though not nearly as clearly."

"God," Xander whispered, turning away from her. That dark space inside of him was unfurling, demanding to be released, and he stumbled away to the top of the hill overlooking the ocean, where the wind was high and he felt as if he were disconnected from everything and everyone around him. He let out a strangled sort of yell, a scream of pain and rage and blame and release until he stumbled to his knees and fell silent, a few last, hot tears leaking from his eyes until he slowly wiped them away and they were dry, empty. He felt curiously light, as if a massive weight had been lifted from his heart, though echoes of it were still there, waiting to be dealt with in their own time.

"Do you feel better?" Marie-Claire asked. She didn't sound judgmental, just accepting. Her hand laid lightly on his shoulder, and he sighed as he settled back onto the grass. She knelt down gracefully next to him.

"I don't love him," Xander said in wonder. Maybe it was the water or the Lady or magic or something, but his head was clearer than it had been in months. "Angelus. He isn't...I was just so _desperate_ and...I'm in love with Angel. I always have been. And then, when Angelus..." Xander looked down, ashamed.

"Angelus is a part of Angel, and he always will be," Marie-Claire said. "Vampires are demons at their core, and while Angel's soul makes him unique, he will always be a vampire. The demon that is known as Angelus is always at Angel's core, struggling to turn Angel back down the road toward darkness. It's ironic that in the end the love that Angel holds in his heart will hold him in the light, while the love Angelus feels in his heart is what drives him to ever more vicious lengths of darkness."

"How much of a human being is left over when the demon hops in?" Xander asked quietly. "Giles always said that it's just an echo, the darker part of a human, but, it just seems..."

"The Watchers aren't entirely wrong, but they aren't right, either," she began, but Xander was chuckling at her, and she smiled at him. "What?"

"You and Giles; you both have the same sniffy teacher voice when you're correcting someone else's oops," Xander explained. She shot him a look and he composed his face to look contrite. "I'll be silent now." They both laughed at that, as the sun shone a little brighter off the mirror of the ocean waves.

"In any case," she said after a moment. "The business of the Watchers' Council is war, and in any war it's human nature to make one's enemies as inhuman as possible. Vampires are an interesting case study in demonology because they aren't entirely demons; they're more hybrids of humans and demons. The human soul is gone, but the soul is a separate entity from the mind. The demon's soul, for lack of a better term, entwines with the human mind left behind, a sort of birth by way of mystical alchemy. There's no conscience or remorse, usually, merely the predatory human mind unfettered by common morality. It's understandable that you saw so much of Angel in Angelus because, in a sense, at their most base core they aren't all that different."

"Cordelia knows that," Xander said after a moment of absorption. "It just makes my head hurt."

"Your friend Cordelia sees many things," Marie-Claire acknowledged. "She's quite impressive, isn't she?"

"Don't let her hear that she impressed you," Xander warned. "She'll take your job from you just so she can wear your fancy head thingie."

"This is why I don't want to take you back to the Isle," she said softly, sitting next to him. "You need to regain this, regain who you are. You're a bright, happy boy, one that I remember well. Everyone has their patches of darkness that they need to fight their way through. And you'll have help, Xander, from Mr. Giles, and Cordelia, and Willow and Buffy. If you'll only _ask_ for help when you need it. You have an incredibly loyal group of friends. Don't take them for granted."

She stood to leave, and Xander looked up at her. "Will I see you again?"

"I'd like nothing more," she said. The Lady of the Lake leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, and he felt something like a spell only better roll through him. She smiled at him in that way that he still somehow remembered from his childhood before she left, leaving him alone with his thoughts as the endless waves washed over the shore.

**888**

Willow came by the hotel that afternoon. Xander didn't tell Giles about his encounter with Marie-Claire; it was still too personal, and maybe it always would be. Giles hadn't asked questions, however. Instead, he'd took them out to burgers and milkshakes, avoiding the more painful topics as Giles caught him up on the Atlantean saga that Xander had missed. Xander had come out of the lunch with a painfully good feeling as Giles awkwardly hugged him before going back to their separate rooms.

Now, however, he was sweating. The last time that he'd seen Willow, he'd read her thoughts to find out that his parents were dead, and before that he had abandoned her and Buffy in favor of allowing Angelus to take him. What the hell was he going to say to her? Still, Marie-Claire's advice about his friends rang in his head, and Xander was hungry for the comfort of Willow-hugs and math tutoring sessions, back before all of this craziness had happened. When he'd been possessed by the spirit of a hyena last year, Xander had tried to get Willow on his side by reminding her how close they'd been before Buffy came to town. He was only half-lying at the time.

And now that Willow was transforming into a powerful witch and he was...whatever the hell he was, the gulf between them was growing wider. When the knock came at the hotel door, he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and opened the door with a doom-laden feeling of trepidation.

Willow walked into the room with a bright smile and a box of donuts. "Are you ready for a mathematical rumble?" she asked happily, and something about that pure geeker joy on her face had Xander wanting to fling himself on her. Perhaps seeing this, she distracted him with the donuts and picked him out a chocolate éclair as she threw open the curtains on his window. "Do you mind if I open this?" she asked. He managed to shake his head around the chocolate reaction, and she let some of the fresh air into the room.

He'd made an effort to clean up, but the stale air sort of gave away the fact that he hadn't left the room much. She didn't comment on that, however, which he was grateful for.

"So," she started, sitting down at the little table in the hotel room. She put down the bag she had hanging over one shoulder and started digging in it. Xander cautiously sat down across from her. This strained silence between them was painful, but how was he going to break it? _Hey, Wills! Sorry I abandoned you for sex with the most evil vampire ever and then got possessed and tried to kill you but since I'm back now I figured we could forget it all and have some Twinkies and then hit the Bronze, okay?_ Willow straightened up from the table with a consternating expression on her face as she put some heavy books down.

"You didn't try to kill me, Xander, the demon did, and he isn't you. So stop being all depressed!"

"Hey! Quit reading my mind!" Xander yelped.

"Quit reading _mine_!" she snapped back.

"You read mine first!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Have a doughnut!" Willow declared, and shoved a chocolate hole into his mouth as he opened it to reply.

"Unfair," Xander garbled at her as he greedily devoured the chocolate.

"I still win," Willow said primly as she spread out the books and took out two notebooks. Xander slowly smiled as she studiously opened the textbooks without looking at him. "And don't you smile like that at me, mister. You haven't been in school for months, and we've got exams a month and half from now. I'm not doing all of your classwork for you, you know."

"What if I give you a shiny nickel?" Xander offered.

"Stop trying to distract me," Willow said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. She smiled serenely and turned the first book toward him. "Ugh; do we _have_ to start with math?"

"Well, I figured we'd both had enough of history for a while," Willow answered as she passed him a notebook.

"You're telling me. Giles tried to explain that whole story yesterday and I can't even tell you what the hell he was talking about. It's just too huge," Xander sighed as he picked up a pencil. Willow had highlighted and sticky-noted the pages that he needed to start note-taking on.

"How are you feeling?" Willow asked softly. "I mean..."

"It doesn't hurt, Wills," he said just as quietly. "Not like that."

"Okay," she said. But she lightly put her hand on his arm, and it was just as warm as he remembered. For the next few hours, they worked together just like they had a million times in the library back at school, as Willow coached him through vocabulary words, short stories and plays, geometry formulas and word problems, historical dates that he didn't remember that she forced him to put down on flashcards. It was all so normal and so regular that for those few blissful hours Xander could soak in the sunlight and drink the Sunny D that Willow had brought with the lunch that she'd packed at home, and pretend that nothing had happened.

"Well, I think that you're about as prepared as you're going to be to go back into the breach next week," Willow said triumphantly. Xander threw down his pencil and tipped his head back, letting out a loud snoring sound. "Ha, ha," she said sarcastically, and he opened one of his eyes to stage-wink at her dramatically before going back to snoring.

"So that's the thanks I get. I should leave now," Willow threatened, but she was leaning back, too.

"How are _you_?" Xander asked after a while. "Giles was telling me about some of the magics you were throwing around last week. He sounded pretty impressed."

"He did?" Willow asked happily.

"Yeah, when he wasn't staring at Ms. Calendar with puppy eyes of lurve," Xander said with a snicker. Willow chortled and they both toasted their final packets of fruit juice.

"I've been doing a lot more heavy lifting than I'm used to," Willow said. "But Ms. Calendar says that I'm a real natural, and so did Marie-Claire. When your teacher from Avalon gets over here, he's going to spend some time giving me some witchcraft coaching, too."

"Cool!" Xander congratulated her.

"Are you nervous about when he gets here?" Willow asked, staring at him slanty-eyed.

"What's there to be nervous about?" Xander joked. "He's only going to show me how to zap people with evil, right?"

"Xander, power isn't evil. It's the people that abuse it that are," Willow said firmly. "You can't help who your father was, but you don't have to let him control your life. If you can get a handle on this, then you can use it to help people. Look at Buffy – if she let being the Slayer get out of hand she could take out half of California before anyone could stop her, and she's part-demon too."

"I'm scared, Willow," Xander admitted. "I'm scared of all of this. I'm so used to being the one who doesn't do anything special, and now I feel like I've got all of this power that...I mean, what am I really supposed to do with it?"

"Xander..." Willow hesitated, before she reached out and took his other hand in hers, looking at him seriously from her emerald eyes. "There are some questions that you need to answer for yourself, you know? Like, me. I talked a little bit to the Lady before she left, and she told me that I'm a natural witch – all of these powers that I have are coming from _me_, because I was chosen to have them, I didn't get them for myself. So, why am _I_ the superwitch? Is it for a reason? I don't know the answers, either, but I think that if you always try to help people, you'll help yourself along the way. Right?"

"Right," Xander agreed, and then they were hugging and for that moment as the sun sank towards the earth for another revolution, he felt that things were finally starting to return to the world he knew.

"I'm gonna go," Willow said finally, starting to gather her things in her bag. "I'm spending the night with Buffy tonight before we all go in for Giles' big old/new housewarming party. Cordelia's been a nightmare; I'm almost afraid to actually go _in_ the apartment she decorated because she sounds like she'll murder anyone who leaves a shoeprint on the floor." She shuddered.

"How is she?" Xander asked, staring at the floor.

"She's holding up. You know that Buffy loves you, right?" Willow burst out suddenly. Xander glanced up. Willow looked torn. "That's why she did what she did, when the spell put her in you and all...she just...It'll all be alright, okay?"

"Okay," Xander said, but it wasn't, and Willow knew it. But there was nothing that either of them could do about it, so instead they hugged again, long and hard, and then Willow left to catch her ride with Oz before the sun finished setting. Xander shut the door behind her and locked it. The room seemed a little darker when Willow wasn't in here trying to brighten it up, but somehow there was a little less darkness. The sun was starting to rise again in his life, no matter how much it hurt. The days kept moving, and every darkness had an end at some point.

He tried to remind himself of that as he showered, but the light wasn't appearing at the end of the tunnels in his vision. Still, when he laid down on the bed and smelled Willow on his pillow, he fell asleep with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

**888**

Buffy smiled as Joyce cleaned up after dinner. It had been the strangest day. She hadn't thought of vampires or demons or any other Sunnydale-brand nasties, not once. Giles hadn't called. In fact, she and her mom had done a totally normal day. Joyce helped her with her English homework, and they went out for ice cream around lunchtime as they ducked into the mall long enough for Joyce to pick up a new belt. On the way home Joyce insisted on rolling down all of the windows and blasting Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" until Buffy changed it to pop tunes in time to catch the new single from Oz's band Dingoes Ate My Baby.

They cleaned the house, or at least picked at it. Joyce told Buffy about the customers frequenting her art gallery, and Buffy regaled her with the story of the last time Willow had been allowed near caffeine and jittered so badly she nearly set one of Giles' books on fire with a candle (huge drama). By mutual unspoken agreement, they said nothing about Buffy's behavior lately, or about Xander or anything else. Buffy opened all of the blinds and the curtains and the windows, letting in the breezy spring air and the bright sunlight. For just that minute, the house on Revello Drive was a sanctuary again from every dark corner of the Slayer's existence.

When Willow rang the doorbell after the sun finally began to set into twilight, Buffy opened the door almost with a feeling of regret, but she fought it down. Willow offered her a weak smile, and Buffy pulled her into a fierce hug. The redhead smiled and returned the gesture with equal feeling.

"Hi, Willow," Joyce said warmly as she passed from the kitchen. She'd always been glad of Willow's friendship for her daughter; since Buffy had befriended Willow her grades had stayed far steadier than they had been, which was a far more obvious sign of Buffy staying on the straight and narrow. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better, Mrs. Summers," Willow said. "Do you want me to hang my coat up here or upstairs?"

"Oh, I'll take it," Joyce said, waving her off. "Do you want to join us for a bowl of ice cream?"

"Mom has decided to take a far more liberal approach to dieting this weekend. It releases stress," Buffy joked, slinging her arm around Joyce's shoulders.

"As long as it promotes family bonding, it lacks calories," Joyce said primly. Buffy and Willow shared a look and smiled, which Joyce patently ignored as she went to the kitchen to serve up spoonfuls of chocolatey goodness. Joyce sighed after they were done. "Much as I'd love to continue this glorious series of slacking activities, one of the women in this household needs to deal with the mountain of bills on that counter." She surveyed the envelopes gloomily as Buffy charitably rinsed off the bowls and fired off the dishwasher.

Willow took the first shower and then Buffy jumped in afterwords. For the first few hours, they just chatted and did the girlie thing. They watched old black and white romance flicks on TV, throwing popcorn at each other, talking about Oz and braiding each other's hair as Buffy gave Willow outfit advice on her next date. They talked about Cordelia and her ruthless putdown of Harmony's attempted power coup in the high school as she somehow (impossibly) managed to keep her position at the top of the Sunnydale royalty while still remaining a firm member of the Scooby Gang.

They talked about Giles and Jenny and how they were trying to not make moon eyes at each other now that Jenny wasn't a pariah anymore, and about how they'd managed to stop an army of gnomes attempting to invade Sunnydale by leaving milk on every doorstep, which had half the city stinking before people found the bottles and threw them out, having the king of the gnomes screaming about poison as he led his followers back into the forest. "But how else was I supposed to fight them, dress up in soccer gear and try not to get stabbed with too many sharp sticks?" Buffy asked, aggrieved, as Willow laughed at her.

Later, after Joyce stuck her head in and said goodnight (giving meaningful mom-like glances at the clock), they lit some candles and put on soft music and starting talking about more serious things – the things they'd both been dancing around all night.

"Were you tempted, you know? To go to Avalon with the Lady of the Lake, after all that magic you pulled off?" Buffy asked. They were stretched out on opposite sides of her bed, Buffy at Willow's feet and Willow at Buffy's, not looking at each other. For a moment, Willow was silent, and then the warm spring breeze seemed to blow a bit harder and the curtains at Buffy's window rippled in a silky dance before settling down again. Buffy didn't have to feel the slight charge in the air with her Slayer senses to tell that that was Willow.

"A little," Willow finally said. "Well, a lot, actually. It's so weird, Buffy. I look back on it now, and before you came to Sunnydale, I feel like I was _waiting_ for something, you know? Like I knew that there was something not right with this town, or with me, but it needed a catalyst. And the first time that I asked Ms. Calendar about magic, and she started teaching me little tricks, it felt like...like I was coming _home_. That has to mean something, right? Like destiny? You were chosen to be the Slayer for a reason – I'm starting to think that witchcraft chose _me_. I just don't have the first clue _why_."

"Does it scare you?" Buffy asked. "All the things that you can do now? It was a little freaksome, even to Giles, how much you were doing a few days ago, and now you're back on your feet..."

"I'm still not 100 percent," Willow said softly. "Magic is like a muscle, you know – you can only do as much as you're strong enough to do. I overstretched the muscle, I guess you could say. I've been so exhausted the last couple of days. If I let myself, I could sleep for a week!"

"Yikes," Buffy said. She brushed her fingers over Willow's comfortingly. "I've felt like that before. Well, a lot, recently."

"I guess it _is_ a little scary," Willow said. "I mean, I'm not used to people looking at me like they did that day. But when we cast the Dance of Souls, in the Circle of Psyche I felt like I was connected to this force, this...beauty. I think it was the Goddess, or some form of that kind of power...I don't know if I'm explaining it right. But I felt like I'd come home, and I knew that I wasn't ever going to stop doing magic because it's a part of me. I'm a witch, Buffy. I really am." Buffy could tell from Willow's voice that she was smiling. Then her voice hesitated slightly. "You know, it's funny – I was just having part of this conversation with Xander today."

"How is he?" Buffy asked, staring fixedly at the ceiling, counting cracks in the paint.

"He's scared," Willow answered, stilling. "Confused, angry. He didn't say much about it but he can't hide much from me, you know? We did the school thing today, but there were times when I'd catch him staring out the window and I knew that he hadn't heard a word I said."

"I guess he would be," Buffy said noncommittally. "What with everything...and all..."

"Do you think you two are ever going to be okay again?" Willow asked sadly.

"I don't know, Will," Buffy said after a pause. "I really don't know. I mean, I understand him even better than you do, you know? I was _in_ his mind, or his soul or whatever the hell you want to call it. Knowing everything that I know after all of that, I can't hate him. I couldn't hate him anyway. But still...I want to blame him for this. I know that sounds horrible, but I really want to just say, 'Look, Xander, I love you and all but if you hadn't gone with Angelus in the first place then none of this would have happened!'" Buffy felt tears welling up in her eyes and did nothing to stop them. "But I know that's wrong, too. I saw the demon's mind, too. He would have taken Xander anyway."

"They really love each other, don't they?" Willow asked brutally, and Buffy let the tears fall as her heart twisted.

"It's more than that, really," she said, her voice growing hoarse. "They're...connected in a way that I don't think can ever be broken. And I know now that Cordelia was right. Everything that I had with Angel was a lie, or a fantasy at least. I can't..." Buffy faltered. "The most wretched part of this whole deal is that my first instinct right now is to call Angel, ask him for his advice, his help. And now I know that he was never really in love with me to begin with, not the way that...God, Willow, I don't even know how I feel anymore! I love him so much! I love him, oh, god, and I _hate_ him! I hate him, Willow, and I _miss_ him!"

For a long minute, Buffy just let the tears come as Willow took her hand strongly. The candle flames climbed a little higher as a comforting breeze flowed through the room, carrying with it the scent of comfort and home as Buffy felt the icy wall she'd built up around her heart these last few months start to melt down. It was hot, and painful, and bitter, but she didn't even try to stem it. Willow didn't say anything; there was nothing to say. Buffy closed her eyes as the tears started to soften, to slow. Most of the dam was broken, and it'd be awhile before it started to build back up again.

"Angel was never really who I thought he was, or at least not...I don't know. He was the big mystery guy from the sky who swooped in and saved the day. He was safe, somehow, which doesn't make any sense because I _knew_ that he was a vampire but he was the only thing that I could see after a while. Did I love the idea of him more than anything? I don't know. But I know that I was so perfect to him – I was his redemption, his shot at cleaning the slates with his soul. Maybe he wouldn't have lost it in the first place if we weren't both lying to ourselves. He's not human, and he'll never _be_ human, and that hurts more than anything."

"What about Xander?" Willow asked.

"I'm terrified of facing him, Willow. Because right now I want to be angry and hurt and bitter, because it's distracting me," Buffy confessed. "Angelus isn't your ordinary vampire. Vampires – most of them – they hunt and feed because they have to drink blood to survive. Angelus...he's a torturer, Willow. Some of the things that Giles has read about in the Watchers' journals...I don't even want to think about it. And look what he did to the Harrises! You know the doctor told Giles that Mrs. Harris has had a psychotic break and he wasn't sure she'd ever snap out of it? And Angelus did that because Xander rejected him. He's dangerous, Willow. I'm going to have to kill him. And I don't know how the hell I'm going to make myself do it! But what's worse is, I'm so scared of having to look Xander in the face after I've put a stake through Angel's heart."

"I don't know anything anymore," Willow said softly. "I wish we didn't have to grow up this fast."

"Me too," Buffy said wistfully. "Me too."

They stayed like that, listening to the sounds of the night outside, for a long time.

**888**

"Okay, now, everyone is going to close their eyes! If I catch you peeking, no cake!" Cordelia ordered them sternly. Xander, Giles, Buffy, Willow, Oz, Jenny and Joyce were all standing in Giles' courtyard, marshaled into a ruler-straight line by Cordelia, who was pacing in front of them like a general about to lead them into battle. She was wearing a classy party dress and had insisted on the rest of them wearing party things (Xander and Giles were excused because Xander didn't own many clothes at the moment and Giles owned nothing but tweed). It was Sunday night, the night before school and the rest of the real world started back up again, and Cordelia had finished renovating Giles' apartment with some of her father's money. Giles had refrained from inquiring how much money, because the price tag was likely enough to make his head spin.

They all obediently closed their eyes and allowed Cordelia to lead them one by one into the door. Xander, who was standing next to Willow, intoned "Like lambs to slaughter, my children," in a Hannibal Lector voice.

"Redrum! Redrum!" Willow whispered back. Cordelia's heels ground a little harder into the concrete in front of them and they shut up. Once they were all corralled into the living room (and Xander and Willow were both fighting back the urge to say "Hello, Clarice"), Cordelia cried with the grandness of a bandstand director,

"Open your eyes!"

With no small degree of trepidation, the assembled members of the Scooby Gang took in Giles' old/new apartment...and froze. The walls of the living room were back to their Spanish beige and done up with new wall decorations. The furniture was a soft brown, with a new living room set to match the new entertainment center, a gorgeous mahogany piece. Cordelia had replaced all of Giles' wooden weapons and book chests with large, decorative armoires. All the cracks in the walls had been repaired, the door had been replaced with a heavy dark wood that looked very solid. The banister had been replaced with a yellowed wood that matched the walls, and the kitchen had been updated with brand new metallic appliances. The entire apartment looked like it belonged in upscale New York City.

"_Wow_, Cordy!" Buffy said after the stunned silence had gone on long enough to make even Cordelia look uncomfortable, and the rest of the gang chimed in with congratulations and scattered applause. Cordelia beamed and curtsied and took Giles on a tour of his new place, though Giles carefully refrained from asking about price tags. Buffy and Willow laughed uproariously to see that every single one of Giles' throw pillows had been replaced with a luscious matching red set. Joyce and Jenny examined the kitchen and exclaimed over the appliances, while Giles appeared genuinely pleased that Cordelia had left his bedroom exactly the way that it was.

Xander stood in the entryway, still staring around, trying not to appear lonely. For a moment, he was disturbed by a vision, as if he were standing in darkness while the light that pooled from this homelike place had enveloped his friends, a light that he wasn't privy to and wouldn't understand or be able to touch. Then Cordelia and Giles came back downstairs and announced that dinner was ready, and Willow grabbed him and pulled him further in and it melted away.

At the table, Xander sat down next to Cordelia and Buffy, who sent a hesitant smile his way, and Xander felt like he was going to melt in relief. He smiled back at her, and then they were having dinner. It was the most normal that most of them had felt in a long time. Joyce and Cordelia had taken the two head seats, and Giles and Jenny were sitting next to each other with Oz, while Willow sat across from Oz and Xander and Buffy sat next to each other. For at least two hours, the gang talked about absolutely nothing, laughing and eating their way through two courses with even Cordy forgetting the diet concerns as they had chicken and salad and stuffing.

After dinner came ice cream and cake as they all toasted Giles and Xander to housewarming and good health. Willow and Buffy and Cordy filled him in on gossip and more about the school year he'd missed, like Larry bringing his new boyfriend to a dance and his parents nearly suing Snyder ("the look on Snyder's face was priceless, the little worm," Buffy said in satisfaction as Joyce shot her a look), or Amy attempting to summon fire with Willow and nearly setting the entire science wing on fire ("I still maintain that it was _entirely_ Amy's fault," Willow said primly as Jenny shot her a disapproving look and Joyce looked confused, until Buffy claimed that it was a science experiment), and Cordelia told them all about how Harmony had attempted another coup by way of spreading rumors that Cordelia bought all of her clothes from an outlet mall, forcing Cordelia to gather all of Harmony's boyfriends together to destroy her in the cafeteria ("You should have seen her wailing beneath my stylish heel, the kowtowing bitch," Cordelia said regally, ignoring the shocked looks the grownups were sending her).

After much urging from the rest of them, Giles and Oz set up shop on the new couches and played a set on their acoustic guitars, with Giles singing his way with great skill through "Time After Time" and "Bridge Over Troubled Water," with Oz treating them all to an acoustic version of the Dingoes' hit "Pain." Jenny lent her surprisingly husky vocals to a rendition of "Landslide." The sun went down as they tried out Giles' new lights and his television, which Giles insisted wouldn't be used as Xander shot him a disbelieving look. Willow lit some candles as they all lounged around the living room, Xander, Buffy and Willow stretched out together on the big couch.

"_You have an incredibly loyal group of friends," Marie-Claire had said. "Don't take them for granted."_ Xander felt Buffy's hand on his and Willow on his shoulder, and he felt like ten years had been taken off of his life as he smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in a week, a lifetime. There was enough light in this living room to beat the dark back, to provide the illusions of safety and normalcy once more, and he soaked it in like a healing ambrosia.

After a few hours, Joyce checked her watch and sighed. "I'm afraid that Buffy and I had better start heading home, if we expect any of these kids to be up in time for school tomorrow."

"Ugh. Don't remind me that that place exists; I'm having far too good of a day," Buffy complained from the couch. Willow, Xander and Cordelia nodded emphatically.

"Welcome to adulthood," Joyce chorused happily, and Giles and Jenny chortled into their coffee cups as the five teenagers in the living room shot them all venomous looks. Acquiescing to their terrible fate, however, Willow got up to help Oz put his guitar back away and start gathering up coats.

"Hold on," Cordelia said quickly, getting up from the couch. "There's one last thing that we all have to do!" She beckoned to them, and the group chorused a put-upon sigh as they stood on their very full stomachs to follow Cordelia down the hall past the bathroom. Xander got pushed forward, which he didn't understand, until he walked into the old office and froze.

They must have gone to the Harris house while he was staying in the hotel, because his posters adorned the wall that had been painted a cheery blue, with new white curtains on the windows and a matching blue bedspread. His comics and books had been stacked on a new set of shelves on the wall, and he had a new desk where his backpack was. His old clothing and some new ones that he could tell Cordelia had picked out was hanging in the closet. Xander felt Giles' hand on his shoulder, and he felt his eyes welling up as a smile big enough to hurt stretched his mouth out.

"Cordy...I don't know...I..." he tried uncomfortably, but he gave up on words and pulled her into a fierce hug, which she returned, and then Buffy and Willow were hugging him as well and for the first time in years Xander felt like he'd finally, finally found a place he could call home.

**888**

After the others had left, Giles and Xander made themselves some tea and settled down in the living room. "Everything looks so new I don't even want to put my cup down on the coffee table," Xander joked as he sat in one of the chairs. Giles lounged back comfortably on the couch.

"I rather like it. It makes me wish that I still smoked so I could appreciate it more," Giles said wistfully. Xander gave him a look and Giles chuckled as he sipped his tea in the proper British fashion. "I did restrain myself from asking a price tag. I was tempted to have her charge it all to the Council and see them pay for it."

"It _is_ pretty British in here," Xander agreed.

"Are you ready for school tomorrow, Xander?" Giles asked softly, regarding Xander with warm, caring eyes. "Because, after everything you've been through, it would be perfectly normal if you wanted a few more days to gather yourself back together before swinging back into life full force."

"Giles, right now I'm holding every little bit of normal I can grab tighter than a...tight-grip thingie," Xander said. "Tonight, all of this...you have no idea how much all of this means, that you would..." He trailed off, feeling girly and unable to express himself, until Giles moved closer and put his hand on Xander's shoulder again.

"Xander, you don't ever have to worry about it," he said firmly. "I feel honored that you would want to live here in this stuffy British place anyway." Xander looked up and pulled Giles into a big hug, which Giles returned somewhat awkwardly, until Xander let go with a bit of a laugh. "Right, well," Giles said, regaining some of his dignity. "If you are going to return to school tomorrow, you'd best head to bed. You wouldn't want to walk in to your meeting with principle Snyder low on sleep."

"You enjoy watching me suffer," Xander accused with narrowed eyes as he got to his feet. Giles shook his head in something like fondness as Xander headed towards his new bedroom, before he got up to make himself another pot of tea. In the kitchen, Giles started in surprise as Jenny appeared from upstairs, where she'd apparently hid.

"I thought you'd gone," he said after he recovered.

"Really? That couldn't have possibly been my intent when I thought I'd surprise you," she said with a sultry smile that had his heart beating a bit faster. She was mocking him again, but he again had the feeling he always got with Jenny, that he was in on the joke rather than on the butt end of it. "You're really happy that he's staying with you, aren't you?" she asked as she helped him clean up.

Giles thought about it for a moment. "You know, I'm actually rather surprised at how much I am. I've always been very fond of all of them, but when I saw that home, even before...the incident...Well, if I can provide a more stable environment while he is recovering from all of this, I suppose I am glad."

"I'm glad that he has so many people to turn to," Jenny said softly as she fired off the new dishwasher. They both started in surprise as the new thing sang a trio of song-like notes at them before humming in a sound almost like contentment as it began its cleaning cycle. "That was fairly creepy."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Giles said, and they grabbed the fresh pot of tea before hurrying out of the living room, the dishwasher blinking a red light forlornly behind them.

"Do you know what else I was thinking?" Jenny asked as she put the cup down.

"N-no," Giles said, glancing around. She shook her head with a husky chuckle as she took his cup out of his hand and then her lush, full lips were caressing his and for once Rupert Giles was happy that his head was clear of thought as the scent of her jasmine perfume serenaded his nostrils, making the rest of the world fall away in a rush of natural, human magic.

In his bedroom, Xander kicked his shoes off into the closet before he slowly sat down on the soft bed and looked around. It wasn't a mess, and the décor was different, but it was home. Xander felt himself start to smile as he slowly laid back into the bed, hearing the sounds of Giles and Jenny bustling about in a clean kitchen outside the door, and he let himself cry as he clutched one of his pillows tighter and drifted off to sleep with a smile.

He woke up with a start.

There had been a sound, but it was more than that; his heightened senses had picked up on a presence that was so familiar he ached with the nearness of it, and when Xander sat up he wasn't at all surprised to look toward the window and see Angelus standing outside of the glass, looking in at him. The sounds from the living room were gone and all the lights were off; he checked the clock on the wall and it said 3:57. Xander's fists clenched on the comforter as Angelus' impossibly soulful brown eyes stared at him hungrily.

"You were invited in a long time ago," Xander said softly, knowing that Angelus' vampiric hearing would be able to hear him through the glass. "Why didn't you just break in if you were going to come?"

"I want you to invite me in, Xander," the demon said, and Xander could hear him through the glass as well, which sent a strange sort of tingle down his spine.

"I won't. I can't," Xander said, surprising even himself with the firmness in his voice. "I won't invite you in again, Angelus."

"Please, Xander. Please don't do this," Angelus said softly, pressing his face in to the glass. Though he breathed, there was no oxygen to frost the glass in his dead lungs, and Xander slowly stood, standing in front of the window. Angelus put his hand on the glass and Xander pressed his hand to meet it, keeping the barrier between them. "Let me in, sweeting," Angelus said. "Open up to me."

"No," Xander said, and dropped his hand away. Angelus stared at him with loss written on his face, and the expression was so close to Angel's that Xander was unnerved. But he didn't turn around when he turned away from the window, not even when his senses told him that Angelus was gone. Instead, he climbed back into bed and shut his eyes, willing sleep to take him once more where there was nothing to hurt him in dreams, which were so much less painful than real life.

Something whispered darkly in the back of his mind that Angelus was not gone, nor was he forgotten.

**888**

Xander stared up at Sunnydale High School with a doom-laden feeling in his stomach that felt like he'd swallowed a lump of iron – except without the burning poison bit, or, well, the swallowing part, seeing as how his mouth was dry but that was probably because he had wet palms and it felt gross so he wiped them on his pants. "Nervous?" Giles asked from the driver's seat, jerking Xander out of his thoughts.

Giles had decided that he would start giving Xander rides to school, seeing as how they were both going there and he seemed to be in full parental mode, which would be giving Xander warm fuzzies save for the idea that Giles was going to have to be the parent part of the parent-teacher conference equation, and the teacher part was going to be principal Snyder, which was a thought that was sending Xander's warm fuzzies scurrying back home under his bed for cover. Not that any date with the Snydernator wasn't a raging whirligig o' fun, but most of Xander's experiences with parent-teacher conferences were either his mother doing a passive-aggressive mode until the teacher sent them both home or his father showing up drunk until they were both sent home, leaving Xander shamed or beaten, or both.

"Nervous? Why would I be nervous?" Xander let out a laugh, but it came out more like a whimper, so he shut his mouth before he embarrassed himself further.

"Xander, we've dealt with principal Snyder before, and we'll do so again," Giles said firmly. "Now, you remember all of the information that Willow prepared for you, yes?"

"My dear aunt Veronica up in Wisconsin whose second husband died in a car accident and then she got sick and I was the only one who could pull the Mr. Fix-It routine, leaving my parents to send me up there and forgetting to tell the school because they were drunk?" Xander rattled off, his leg jittering.

"Precisely. As long as we both remember our story and keep it straight, Willow has provided us with more than enough evidence to, if not convince him, prevent him for proving otherwise," Giles said, patting his shoulder in a manly fashion. Xander groaned and clutched his back to his chest as he climbed out of Giles' car. Walking towards the front doors from the faculty parking lot direction was a new experience, but Xander suddenly felt a hundred pounds lighter as he saw his three girls waiting for him.

Willow glanced up from her science book and grabbed Buffy and Cordelia's arm, and the four of them waved wildly as he and Giles headed towards the stairs. "There, you see? This is all going to work out for the best," Giles said firmly, and Xander could almost believe him.

"Hey, guys!" Willow said enthusiastically, shoving her textbook back in her backpack. "Are you all geared up for the big meet n' greet?"

"How much gearing up can you do for a meeting with _that_ little troll on a power trip?" Buffy asked, slipping her sunglasses off. "At the most you can hope for heal-able lacerations."

"Not all of us spend our lives in his office," Cordelia sang out. "Xander, I picked out the new outfits in your closet so that you _wouldn't_ have to spend the rest of this school year as a fashion victim!"

"Oops," Xander shrugged. Buffy and Willow shared his smile as Cordelia sighed a very put-upon sigh and headed off in the direction of an extremely nervous looking Harmony Kendall and her tittering coterie of Cordettes. "Somehow, her claws seemed less sharp when she was making out with me," he noted.

"You know, since we all know now that you don't really go for the girly type, can we not ever discuss that horrifying event again?" Willow asked, aggrieved.

"Say, you're not going to start dating Larry, are you? Because Cordy was one thing, but if you entered jock-land we may have to start scheduling time apart," Buffy cracked.

"You two are a hoot," Xander said venomously.

"Besides, he's still dating someone from Santa Barbara," Willow reminded them. "I think it's cute! But, you know, not something I'll mention again today," she added, catching sight of the look on Xander's face. "You know, it's not going to be as bad with Snyder as you're afraid of. Even if he doesn't believe you, there's not a thing he or any cop in Sunnydale can do to prove that you weren't in Wisconsin."

"Your confidence in that leads me to wonder how you managed to pull it off, but then, I almost don't want to know," Buffy noted.

"I use my powers strictly for the greater good," Willow protested.

"That still doesn't wash the fact that I have it on visual authority that you kept numerous body parts of Ted the serial killing robot," Xander informed her solemnly. Willow frowned as Buffy nodded her head in tacit agreement.

"I'm going to go meet Oz," Willow said firmly, heading off in that direction.

"Speaking of, I happen to hear homeroom calling my name," Buffy said, gesturing. "Good luck with the rat!"

"Don't all of you abandon me!" Xander said nervously.

"We're still in the building," Buffy said. "And besides, you have Giles with you. What could go wrong?" She headed to class with a smile, but then, Xander couldn't really fault her – it was usually _her_ on the receiving end of Snyder's little hate-filled bursts of bile.

"It really _will_ be alright, Xander," Giles said comfortingly. Xander blinked at the bright sunlight and left it behind with a feeling of regret as he entered back into the building he'd been trying in one way or another to escape for nearly three years now.

It was eerie to walk down the hallways of Sunnydale High School again. He knew in theory that he'd been...gone for more than three months, but the time had passed so quickly, and then, with all of the magic and possession and everything, Xander felt like he'd been gone for three _years_, and he wondered if he'd even be able to retain anything from his classes even with Willow's help. As he and Giles passed down the first row of lockers, he saw the whispers start. In a tiny town like Sunnydale, rumors spread. While he had a cover story now, everyone had seen how Buffy and Willow and his friends had acted while he was gone, and everyone in Sunnydale had naturally assumed that he was one of the mysterious missing or dead, yet here he was. He was willing to bet the rumor mill was going to be spinning right round for the next few weeks.

"Sure. It's all gonna be alright," Xander muttered, but by then they'd reached the principal's office and Giles didn't say anything as they stepped in the door. Snyder didn't look happy to see them; in fact, if possible the man looked even more dour than he usually did.

"Let's not waste time here, people," he said, his nasally and unpleasant voice grating down Xander's ears. He felt an irrational upsurge of anger and he fought it down quickly, like a muscle spasm. What the hell? But then, all of his senses had been heightened lately, which Giles assured him was normal. Why shouldn't he dislike the way that Snyder was looking at him like he was a piece of gum he'd stepped on? "Despite my firm urgings for expulsion, the school board has assured me that I will be required to allow Harris to continue his schooling here, rather than in a correctional facility where he belongs."

"I hardly think that this is appropriate," Giles began with a frown, but Snyder cut him off.

"I have no interest in appropriate. This whole thing stinks of the same sort of smell that emanates from that Summers girl and all of her social circle. You suddenly emerging as this boy's relative. A conveniently sick aunt in a state no one travels to. Parents turning up dead! I don't believe any of your story for a minute, but everyone else does. Rest assured, though, Harris – if you put one toe out of line," Snyder growled, looming over the pair of them, his teeth practically bared, "I _will_ have you expelled."

"Can I go now?" Xander asked miserably, his hands trembling.

"Get out of my office, the pair of you. Don't you have a job to perform, Mr. Giles?" Snyder sneered at them as they left, but there wasn't much more he could do. Giles nodded to him as he led Xander out, and steered him directly towards the library. Xander groaned and leaned back against a locker bank.

"Miserable little man," Giles said angrily. "Xander, don't let anything he said in there mean anything; it only gives him power."

"I don't know if I can do this, Giles," Xander muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"Xander, you know if I didn't have the utmost belief that you were strong enough to get through this I wouldn't have let you return to school this early," Giles said flatly. "Now, I want you to march to your history class, and meet with Buffy and Willow and Cordelia and Oz, and have a normal day. I'll see you at the end of the day in the library."

"Right," Xander said, smiling a little more confidently.

"Right," Giles said with a nod, and headed off toward the library.

"Right," Xander whispered, like a promise, and he headed towards his first class.

**888**

"You are _so_ heinous," Cordelia said acidly as they left Teen Health together. "Just because you had to take care of some sick old biddy, Mr. Weatherly is gonna give you a pass on homework. And I'm like, _I_ had important things to do this weekend! I totally shopped myself to pieces redecorating that apartment, and what thanks do I get for it? A little speech about my 'lack of priorities.' _Please_. I prioritize just fine, don't I?" she demanded, turning to him and Willow and Buffy.

"What's important is that _you_ believe that," Xander said with a shrug.

"Bite me, Harris," Cordy snapped, and headed off to continue her ragefest with her followers.

"So, what are we going to do for lunch today?" Buffy asked. She felt _good_, light and airy and full of sun. After letting out so much of the dark, bitter anger in her that weekend, just being in school with Giles in the library and Xander and Willow behind her once again, joking their way through the Hellmouth's belching, was enough to have a small spring in the Slayer's step, and she was riding the joy train for all it was worth.

"Is there anything but the cafeteria and their mystery meat?" Xander inquired.

"I always figured that the lunch ladies say it's mystery meat because they don't want us to know it's bologna," Willow said.

"But I _like_ bologna," Xander protested.

"Do you even know what bologna _is_?" Willow asked, sounding horrified. "It's all those parts of cows and pigs that no one wants, like nose and hoof and organs and—"

"Who's hungry?" Buffy asked, matching Xander's disgusted expression with her own. "And that's the last sandwich you'll catch _me_ eating anytime soon. Thanks, Willow."

"Knowledge is power," Willow told them.

"And ignorance is bliss," Xander returned, sticking his tongue out at her.

**888**

Actually, as Xander was learning, ignorance _was_ bliss. For the next three days, he stayed blissfully ignorant of every little supernatural thing, as Giles and Willow worked together to catch him up on schoolwork. He was getting used to most of the pitying looks from his teachers and he was also learning that they were being much easier on him than they used to – most likely because most of them disliked principal Snyder and were out to subtly undermine him at every turn. The first week back at Sunnydale High School was turning out so normal that Xander could almost forget that dreamlike visitation at his window Sunday night.

By Thursday, Xander could pretend that he was a normal kid. Granted, his hearing was supercharged, his sense of smell prevented him from using the school's bathroom for fear of vomiting and he could pick up on what Willow called aural senses (surface thoughts or feelings or vibrations around him), but he hadn't had any more occasions of storm-like things happening around him, and the more confused of his feelings were being firmly buried beneath the surface. He was starting to feel like the same old Xander. Buffy and he were talking and joking, Willow and Oz were surfacing from smoochies long enough to invite him back to the Bronze to see the Dingoes play a new show, and Cordelia kept him abreast of the gossip surrounding his disappearance ("Let's see: you've been in jail, you've dealt drugs, you killed someone and went on the run, tried a career in porn, and became a kleptomaniac," she said with a wide smile while serenely filing her nails).

And, perhaps best of all, his home life was going so well that he never felt that habitual wince when the final bell rang. After school, Xander went to the library where he worked on schoolwork, usually with Willow until she went home as Buffy either studied with them or trained on various martial arts katas, usually resulting in a very winded and bruised Giles, after which Buffy would head home and Giles would get his things together and drive them back to his apartment, which Xander was rapidly starting to consider home.

Usually the TV stayed off, though Giles had a large music collection which Xander was quickly starting to appreciate, along with the taste of tea (though he'd never admit it). They'd have dinner, sometimes talking, sometimes not. On Thursday night, Jenny came over for dinner, which had Xander delighted as he took digs at Giles until Giles threatened to keep him there instead of allowing him to go to the Bronze, so Xander shut up. It was likely the most homey dinner he'd had in a while; they had pasta and chicken and salad and Jenny uncorked a bottle of wine as they flirted with each other and tried to include Xander in the conversation, with Giles even allowing Xander one glass of wine. When it was time for dessert, Xander stood up.

"I'll just let you two have the dessert," he said with a grin. "I think I know when a third wheel becomes troublesome."

"Oh, Xander, you're not—" Jenny started to protest, but Xander just waved her off.

"Nah, the sun's still up and everything. I'm going to head to the Bronze and meet up with Buffy and Willow and Oz."

"As long as you're safe," Giles began, sounding like he was about to get into his overprotective mode, so Xander cut him off at the pass.

"The sun's still up, I have two crosses on me _and_ a bottle of holy water, and if I see a vampire I'm supposed to run to Buffy and hide till the danger's gone," he rattled off. Giles looked fairly chagrined, which Xander took a bit of mean fun in. "I'll be fine, I promise. And besides, if I go now, that leaves you two to have to do the dishes again!" He waved, grabbed his coat, and was out the door before Giles could say anything, though Jenny was chortling into her wine glass.

"And suddenly, I have a teenager," Giles noted as the door closed, settling back down in his chair.

"You look like you're fairly enjoying yourself," Jenny said, starting to gather the dishes together. "How do you think he's coping?"

"He still cries at night, or cries out _his_ name sometimes in his sleep," Giles said softly. "He thinks that I can't hear, but I've read up on vampire Claiming rituals, and it seems that he'll likely not feel entirely comfortable in his own skin unless he's near Angelus physically, if not emotionally." Giles buried his head in his hands. "There aren't any counter-magics to fight it, either. I want to comfort him, but he's trying to be strong and pretend like he can just get through it all. I want to let him try, but I don't want him to fall. The problem is, I don't have a clue what I would say if he did."

Jenny slid her hands over his shoulders, lightly rubbing. "He looks up to you so much, Rupert. You'll think of what to say, and he'll listen to you. You just have to give it time."

"The funeral is this Sunday," Giles told her, leaning back into the massage. "I'll have to tell him about it. But I think I'll just give him tonight to be a child before I have to put the world back on his shoulders."

"And he so courteously gave us the apartment to ourselves for at least a few hours," Jenny noted, her lips lightly tracing the top of his forehead.

"The dishes," Giles mumbled.

"Can wait," she finished for him, and then her lips were on his again and Giles found himself firmly agreeing with anything and everything she said.

**888**

The Dingoes were warming up a fast pace at the Bronze, and the dance floor was full. Willow was bopping her head along to the beat and beaming up at the stage as Oz played, while Buffy and Cordelia both just smiled at her and sipped cappuccino. Despite the warm acceptance he'd found this week, Xander still found himself hesitating as he approached the table.

But it wasn't just his friends. His eyes roved the shadows of the dark club restlessly. The last time that Xander had been in the Bronze, Angelus had come for him. Memories of that night made him shiver; dark eyes that melted into warm gold haunted his thoughts and he was wracked by the magic-induced itch that he felt for Angelus, even now, weeks later. The night that Angelus had come to him, asking to be let in through his window...had he dreamed that? His dreams of Angelus were certainly vivid enough...Xander clenched his fists miserably as a headache started building in the back of his mind; he felt that dark, secret place inside of him start to feel more alive...It was always Angelus that spoke to that part of him that was _other_, that was dark. Could he keep control if the vampire were to show himself now?

If Angelus asked him to come with him again, could Xander refuse him once more?

"Xander?" Buffy asked, her voice breaking in to his dark reverie like a burst of sunlight. Xander opened his eyes to see the lithe blonde gazing at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

"No," Xander blurted out quietly. He surprised himself with the honesty, but then, the last time he'd said he was okay in this building he'd...Forcing his eyes closed, Xander allowed Buffy to lead him to the table, banishing all thoughts of the vampire to the dark corners of his mind as he sat down with his friends in a circle of light that was starting to seem like a barrier.

"I say we order chocolate bars," Buffy declared. Xander shot her a grateful smile as Cordelia huffed.

"You people are not only harmful to my social status, you are determined to make me fat," she accused.

"I could always magic the fat out of your food," Willow offered with a mean smile.

"You keep your Sabrina-fingers out of my life," Cordelia said. "_I'm_ going to go buy something low fat." Buffy sighed a long-suffering sigh as the two of them headed up to the café bar together.

"Those two have been spending _way_ too much time together," Willow declared. "It's unnatural and wrong."

"Isn't that supposed to apply to _my_ life lately?" Xander joked weakly.

"Which one of the two of us has parents who'd burn her at the stake?" Willow shot back.

"_I_ might destroy the world one day," Xander said hotly.

"_You_ are too cute and have large puppy dog eyes. No one would take villainous Xander seriously," Willow argued. "Me, on the other hand, could pull it off."

"Oh, yeah right," Xander argued back, feeling his mouth start to turn up in a grin. "What are you going to do, bewitch all of your textbooks to start beating people over the head until someone puts a frog in front of you?"

"Well, what would _you_ do?" Willow demanded back with a slightly maniacal smile. "Throw some thunderbolts around until someone dressed up like a clown in front of you?"

"How dare you attack my clownophobia?" Xander hollered.

"You went after frogs first, buster!" Willow cried, pointing an accusatory finger his way.

Buffy and Cordelia came back to the table to find both of them collapsed into peals of howling laughter. "I'm confused," she said. "Weren't we all here for comfort food? What's the funny?"

"Frogs!" Xander yelped, pointing at Willow.

"Clowns!" Willow screeched, pointing at Xander, at which they both laughed harder until Xander fell off of his chair with a loud thud, which had Willow banging her head on the table.

"You see, this is why I never used to hang out with them," Cordelia said, philosophically sipping her low-fat coffee as half of the Bronze turned to stare at their table.

"I think it's cute," Buffy said slowly, eying the table with trepidation.

"You look like you're staring at two strange pets," Cordelia announced.

"Hey!" Xander protested from under the table.

"Stop staring up my skirt," Cordelia said, aiming a kick his way.

"Ow!"

"Clowns," Willow said happily as she surfaced from the table. "And chocolate!" She snatched one of the Milky Way bars Buffy had brought back with her and started munching with a pleased look on her face.

"Chocolate?" Xander asked, jerking up from the floor. Buffy sighed and surrendered her velvety soft 3 Musketeers bar and watched with a tragic expression as it was gone in three bites.

"You're supposed to _savor_ 3 Musketeers," she said mournfully.

"Mmmpahfoohah," Xander said intelligently as he chewed.

"Sigh," said Cordelia, and then she stood up and headed towards the dance floor to out-dance Harmony.

"I vote joinage," Buffy said, shucking her coat off to reveal a slinky dress as she headed out to join Cordelia. Xander and Willow skipped off to join them as Oz kicked them off into a fast-paced theme. The lights of the club beat a tattoo as the four friends lost themselves in the music in a space of goodness where there was nothing between them all but friendship, which was enough light to beat back the darkness, and Xander threw himself into it with joy.

They danced and talked and ate and drank until they ran out of money, and then danced some more. The Dingoes played for nearly two hours, and when the finished up their set the Scooby Gang ran to the backstage area to help the band dissemble, Cordelia flirting shamelessly with a hapless and thoroughly stoned-looking Devon. Oz and Willow kept 'accidentally' touching each other's hands as she helped him put his guitar away, and Buffy was talking to the drummer, so Xander sat down and mopped some of the sweat off of his brow as he just smiled. After so much darkness, it was a joy how easy it was for his lips to curve upwards, and he basked in it.

"Come on, Xander," Buffy said after a while, once the band had started leaving. "Oz is wheels-man; he's going to give us all rides home tonight."

"You know, it still cracks me up that the Scooby Gang now has a canine mascot _and_ a Mystery Mobile," Cordelia said as they headed into the back alley. Willow shot her a poisonous look as Oz just chuckled and shook his head. "What?" Cordy asked, catching Willow's stare. Buffy caught Xander's eye and they both turned to hide their laughter as they all trooped into the van.

"You guys played really well tonight," Willow said in the front seat as Oz drove off toward Sunnydale's main roads.

"Thanks. It's nice because Devon has actually been practicing with us the last few weeks, so we have the timing thing down," Oz acknowledged.

"Are you guys thinking of getting a record deal anytime?" Xander asked.

"Well, that would entail all kinds of responsibility and, you know, scheduling. Which none of us are really cool with. We're good playing at the Bronze, you know?" Oz said.

"I like that you stay around here. It's nice to have a band that doesn't suck play at least twice a month," Cordelia said. "There's nothing worse than paying a cover charge to hang out at the _only_ club in town just to walk in and have the band blast you right back out again."

"This is true," Buffy said. "So who's getting dropped off first?"

"There are vampires in that cemetery," Xander said softly, pointing at the one that they were passing. He hadn't really known it until he said it, but once he'd said it out loud he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was right.

"Xander?" Buffy asked, turning towards him hesitantly.

"There are vampires there, in that cemetery," Xander repeated, pointing. "Old ones. They're hunting."

"Okay, that's enough for me. Oz, can you stop?" Buffy asked, in full Slayer mode as she pulled a long, wickedly sharp stake from her jacket sleeve.

"Already there," Oz said, pulling over next to the gates.

"Do you need backup?" Willow asked worriedly, looking out at the nearly moonless night.

"That could be nice," Buffy said, climbing out of the van. "But all of you stay back until we see what's what. If it's a big group I don't want you guys putting yourselves in danger."

"Have no fear – I'm staying away from all things pointy. This is silk!" Cordelia declared as she climbed out of the van. As Xander turned to her to open his mouth, she pointed at him. "If you try to get me to be used as bait one more time, Xander Harris, I will break one of those tombstones over your big fat head!" Xander shut his mouth and shared a smile with Willow as they headed out after Buffy, though Xander's smile wasn't quite as bright as it had been all evening. How the hell had he known? But now that he'd mentioned it, he could _feel_ them nearing him, a scent like blood and age and earth that was more a feeling than a scent reaching him, confusing him with memories of the factory until his hands started shaking.

"Pull it together," he whispered to himself, not even aware he'd said anything out loud until Willow's small hand slipped into his, comforting and warm, and though she didn't say anything he felt her nearness washing over him like a blanket.

"Guys, get back!" Buffy yelled, and then she launched in the air toward a trio of vampires closing in cruelly around a screaming young girl. Buffy's foot landed on the tallest one's face, sending him reeling as she landed lithely and snapped a fist into one's gut while her foot lashed out into the other's chest, knocking all three of them away from their prey. "RUN!" Buffy yelled in the girl's hysterically white face, and she turned without a backward glance and ran shrieking into the night, hopefully with enough sense left to make it home. Buffy turned and drew a second stake from her jacket, holding herself at the ready like a ninja with a pair of blades as the three vampires slowly stood up.

Xander had a flash of foreboding that shot through him, a sense of something familiar and awful, and Willow's face darkened with awareness as her magic latched on to his to sense what he sensed. "Buffy, it's a trap!" Willow hollered, before she released Xander's hand long enough to scream out a spell, shooting a web of purplish lightning from her fingers that slammed into the three vampires, knocking them backwards into the crypt hard enough to knock them down. "We have to run!"

Buffy and the others didn't need to be told twice; they wheeled around and ran for the van as fast as they could, then pulled up short as two vampires appeared from the shadows, blocking their way. Buffy jerked to the side and pulled her friends along with her, only to see more vampires appearing that way as well. Xander moaned in misery as he felt other vampires approaching; they had been blocked in on all sides. Out of the darkness, the girl that Buffy had saved earlier reappeared, the white dress she wore sitting oddly on her as she shook her blonde hair out of her face, revealing her demonic visage – a vampire.

Xander's heart twisted as he felt pulled apart by yearning and by terror, by love and hate all at once, as he turned around and saw Angelus leaning against the crypt, watching his forces trap in his enemies. Next to Angelus was Drusilla, though Spike was nowhere to be found. Buffy, breathing hard, saw where Xander was looking and fearlessly moved forward, putting herself between Xander and Angelus. There was a small, hated part of Xander that wanted to move past her to keep looking at the vampire. Why did Angelus have to be so beautiful?

"Hello, Slayer," Angelus said softly, his voice carrying in the still night air. What had felt like spring warmth now felt fetid and wretched as Xander's skin crawled; the Claiming magic was alive in him and battling with his inner self to force him closer to his claimant, to allow Angelus to bite him, to dominate him once more. Xander's head began to pound as he started shaking, the confusion in him building to a crescendo as something dark began to awaken within him.

"If there's something you want to say to me, you can leave my friends out of this," Buffy said bravely, her stakes raised offensively. "We'll have it out here and now, between you and me, the way it should be."

"I have no interest in killing you tonight, Buffy. You can get out of my way," Angelus said, stepping forward. "This is between me and Xander."

"You're not getting anywhere near him," Buffy said angrily. "Don't you think you did enough damage the first time around?"

"Shut your mouth," Angelus warned her, his eyes beginning to yellow into fierce raptor's eyes. His face remained human, though; he was keeping control of himself.

"Buffy's not the only one that you have to worry about," Willow said angrily, stepping forward. "Look at him! You keep saying that you care about him so much," she spat, gesturing at Xander, who was shaking now, clutching at his head, trying desperately to beat back the black fire he could feel licking at his mind, "but he clearly doesn't want you anywhere _near_ him—"

"Stop them," Angelus said coldly, his face furious, and his forces moved in. Buffy was more than ready for them, however; when the first vampire reached her she exploded into action, shoving a stake through its heart before it could blink and launching herself directly at Angelus, her fist slamming into his face. Angelus snapped back with a roar, his face snarling out into its true appearance, and he slammed into Buffy like a prizefighter, the two of them going down in a tangle of limbs as he wrestled her to the ground, even as she hammered into his face with jackrabbit blows until his nose started bleeding. Cordelia screamed as one of the vampires grabbed her, and she slammed her pointed heel into his foot with vicious vengeance. The vampire howled and let go, and Cordelia streaked towards the car, darting between gravestones as a pair of vampires split off from the group and headed after her.

Seeing this, Willow threw more of her purple lightning toward them, knocking them both forward with pitch-perfect accuracy until they slammed headlong into gravestones, stunned. She turned towards the rest of the vampires and yelled in pain as Drusilla caught her gaze, and the air rippled between them as they engaged in a psychic battle. Xander collapsed to his knees, rocking back and forth, back and forth, the way that he used to do as a child when the world was too much and he wanted people to leave him alone.

"Willow!" Oz yelled, and he launched himself toward Drusilla, only to have a slim, gorgeous brunette vampiress leap forward with a spinning roundhouse kick worthy of a Slayer that caught him in the head, knocking Oz out cold. Willow cried out when she saw this and Drusilla used her moment of distraction to slam her over the head with the psychic equivalent of a frying pan, knocking Willow to her knees as she yelled in pain, a trickle of blood running from her nose.

"Nonononono..." Xander muttered, looking around him.

The fight between Buffy and Angelus was going worse for Angelus; Buffy had wrestled her way on top of him and was slamming a series of wicked punches into his face, raining blows upon his head as she looked around for one of her fallen stakes. When she took her eyes off of Angelus, however, he clasped his fists together and slammed a punishing blow into Buffy's diaphragm, knocking the wind out of her with a painfully audible _oof_. She jerked back and he whipped his legs up to lock over her chest, slamming her backward until her head hit the ground with a thump. Still not out, however, Buffy swung her legs around in a double roundhouse, smashing Angelus in the face and allowing her to roll over backwards and jump to her feet. Angelus was already there, however, and he punched her in the throat once, hard, before she could catch her bearings.

Buffy collapsed to the ground, clutching her windpipe as she gasped desperately for breath. Angelus kicked her in the face viciously, and she landed away from him, sprawled on the ground, helpless. The vampires started to surge forward toward their fallen foes, but Angelus threatened them back with a warning roar of rage more akin to a tiger's than a vampire's, and they all respectfully stepped back.

Angelus' face shifted back to his human facade as he slowly walked toward Xander. Despite her pain, Buffy desperately tried to move forward, to stop him, but the slender brunette with the martial-arts moves placed her foot on Buffy's spine, stopping her from moving.

"Xander?" Angelus asked. Xander looked up at him wildly, his face more like a confused animal's than a person's. "Xander..." He moved forward, but Xander jerked back, rocking backward and forward.

"Please...stop..." Xander whimpered, his head moving from side to side. "It's all too much! It's too much!"

"It doesn't have to be," Angelus promised, offering his hand. "Xander, come with me. I won't hurt you again; I won't hurt your friends. Come with me." His warm brown eyes burned as he stared down at Xander, who was gazing at him in confusion, pain, rage, love, a million different emotions warring in his sweet chocolatey eyes, and Angelus moved toward him again.

"I don't want...I don't know..." Xander's fists clenched and unclenched again and again. "Please, stop it! Please..." His eyes flashed, and that was the only warning any of them got as a sudden wind blasted down toward the clearing as Xander's power complied with his most basic wish that they would all be _gone_. The vampires were knocked down by the wind as it kicked toward them, the sky darkening threateningly as thunder started to roll in the distance.

"Xander, stop!" Angelus roared, starting towards him – but they had all forgotten about Cordelia. The horn sounded on Oz's van like a battle cry as she screamed in terror, driving it straight towards the largest group of the confused vampires, unnerved by the thunder. The vampires scattered, and Angelus jerked back as Buffy used the vampires' confusion to roll to her feet and stagger away from them, gathering her strength back as she picked up one of her fallen stakes.

The wind died down abruptly as the skies cleared, and Xander jerked his head up, looking more confused than ever. "Angelus?" he asked, looking up at the vampire.

"Xander." Angelus' hand was still offered to him.

"Xander," Buffy said. The van's door was open and Willow had an unconscious Oz inside. Xander's head spun between his friends and his lover like he had whiplash, his heart screaming at him to throw himself into Angelus' arms and his conscience ordering him back to Buffy's side.

"Xander..." Angelus whispered his name like a benediction.

"Please don't make me choose this," Xander whispered, the confusion and darkness and terror in his mind threatening to return.

"You already have," Angelus said quietly. "Go."

"Angelus..." Xander murmured. Involuntarily, his fingers traitorously traveled upwards to lightly touch the vampire's Claim scar.

Angelus struck like a snake, grabbing Xander and surging him forward, kissing him forcefully, and Xander's whole body trembled with terrible passion as Angelus let him go. "I _will_ have you back," he whispered, and then he threw Xander toward Buffy, letting her catch him as Xander went limp like a rag doll, before Angelus and his forces turned with him and disappeared into the night. Buffy watched the brunette vampiress turn to look back at her, unnerved by the clear emerald of her eyes, before she too faded into the evanescent darkness.

"Buffy," Xander muttered.

"We need to regroup at Giles'," Buffy said softly. She didn't meet his eyes, but her hands stayed on him comfortingly as they got into the van and Cordelia raced them off into the night.

**888**

"You're sure we don't need to get Oz to a hospital?" Willow asked, concerned, but Jenny shook her head.

"He isn't concussed, Willow. He'll have a nasty bump on his head, though," she said tiredly. The van had screeched into Giles' parking space twenty minutes earlier, interrupting Giles and Jenny's evening, and now the entire Scooby Gang was once again trooped in Giles' living room. Oz was stretched out on the couch, his head in Willow's lap, while Giles was bandaging Buffy's arm, which had been torn open by one of the vampires' claws. Cordelia was pacing in the kitchen, waiting to make tea, which was keeping her hands busy. Xander sat down on one of the chairs, staring at nothing in particular.

"We need strategy, Giles," Buffy said, sitting at the head of Giles' table. The rest of them, including Oz, who was still clutching his head, joined her. "It's pretty clear that Angelus has some new players in town. These weren't your average minions, Giles; especially one of them. They're trained, they aren't scared, and they play rough."

"So all this time that Angelus has been silent..." Jenny started, next to Giles.

"He's been building an army," Buffy nodded grimly.

"Okay, am I the only one that's thinking 'eek' at this point?" Willow said weakly. "Giles, these vamps came at us from out of nowhere; if Xander hadn't warned us we wouldn't have gotten Cordelia out long enough to get us away."

"Hey!" Cordelia said suddenly, perking up. "I totally saved the day, didn't I?"

"You did good," Buffy said with a slight smile in her direction. Cordelia looked fairly flattered, and sat back with a self-satisfied smile on her face. Xander couldn't help but smile slightly, but his smile was quickly flattened into nothing when Giles turned back to Buffy.

"What were they after?"

"Xander," Buffy said after a moment. "He came for Xander. I think he was trying to convince Xander to come back with him because he gave orders for none of the vamps to kill us. Hurt and maim, sure, but..."

"Note to self: demon wooing, freaky," Cordelia said with a frown.

"Good lord, Xander, are you alright?" Giles asked, turning to Xander with fatherly concern. Xander felt like crumbling from the guilt. A part of him, no matter how small, had _wanted_ to go with Angelus. He was still so confused over what had happened in the cemetery that he couldn't even answer, just look down at the table, picking at the tablecloth. "Right," Giles said after a moment. "Well, I think we can be sure that Angelus certainly won't stop trying. How did you break free?"

"Xander...did something, I don't even know what," Buffy said. "But it sure had all the vampires uberfreaked."

Xander still wasn't meeting any of their eyes, so Giles soldiered on without pressing the point. "Still, this is at least the first time Angelus has tried this approach – if he still thinks that he can connive Xander into returning to his side, he may still be reluctant to engage in open combat with you, Buffy, which will give us more time to train."

"It wasn't the first time," Xander said finally, breaking his silence. Everyone at the table turned to stare at him. His voice sounded hollow and dead. "Last week, in my room, he came to the window. He wanted me to let him in. I didn't say anything because I was hoping that it was another nightmare...but it wasn't. I should have told you Giles; I'm sorry." He finally looked up to see a look of overwhelming pity in Giles' eyes.

"It's perfectly alright, Xander," Giles said firmly. "Here, why don't you have a cup of hot tea and take a shower? You're white as a sheet." Xander refused the tea, but he got up to take the shower. Giles followed him to the bathroom and lightly kneaded his shoulder. "It's going to be alright. Just relax." Xander nodded miserably and allowed himself to be steered into the bathroom. Inside, after he'd stripped, Xander blasted the water as hot as he could stand it, and just sat in the corner of the bathroom, and let himself break down. He didn't feel clean.

**8**

When Giles returned to the table, they all waited for the water to start pounding before they continued the conversation in whispers.

"I think that this is far more serious than it appears," Giles said flatly. "Angelus has proven time and time again that a particular...interest of his is more like an obsession. He stalked Drusilla for nearly an entire year, torturing and tormenting her and molding her into the demon she is today. His bond with Xander runs deeper magically and emotionally than anything he's ever felt before, and he will likely stop at nothing to get what he sees as his rightful property back, particularly from the group of people who most made him feel like a human while cursed with his soul."

"And the last child in America of the clan that cursed him in the first place," Jenny said softly, and Giles slipped her hand into his, trying to fight off her memories of her uncle Tomas, who had been found in his hotel room brutally murdered and ripped to shreds on his bed, with Angelus scrawling obscene messages on the walls in the man's blood as a present for Buffy and Jenny.

"And then there's me," Buffy said softly. "I saw it in his eyes, Giles. He hates me more than any of us, especially after the spell that saved Xander, when he and I went into Xander's mind...I think he blames me for Xander leaving him. When I got in his way tonight, the way he _looked_ at me...He'll try to kill me if I get in his way again, and he's not going to have the patience to hold off on attacking all of us if Xander doesn't agree to go with him."

"We don't know that, Buffy," Giles argued. "Now, the number of vampire-based murders in Sunnydale has still stayed quite low – let's not forget that on top of our attack Xander inadvertently destroyed the factory and any vampires still trapped inside; we decimated the vampire population that day, and I don't think that Angelus has enough forces to feel comfortable attacking you. We still have some time."

"Not to mention Willow," Cordelia piped up. "Even though they sideswiped us she got a group of them down before they got her."

"Yes, Willow has performed admirably," Giles acknowledged.

"Giles, that fight with Drusilla..." Willow trailed off uncomfortably, and Oz took her hand under the table, lending her some strength. "It was so horrible, the _feeling_ of her in my mind, like worms crawling in my head. I don't know how much longer I would have been able to fight her off. She's _crazy_, Giles; her mind is like shards of broken glass all thrown together with glue, and it hurt so much...Drusilla really is evil, Giles. I don't _ever_ want to go in her mind again," Willow said, shuddering as she pulled her hands closer over her chest, leaning into Oz.

"You know, Giles, Spike wasn't there tonight," Buffy said slowly. "Angelus and Drusilla were there, and their little...troop thingies, but Spike was nowhere to be found."

"You think that Spike may have had some sort of falling-out with Angelus?" Giles asked skeptically.

"I don't know, but he certainly never seems that happy when Angelus is around him," Buffy said. "I mean, anything is worth a shot investigating at this point."

"Well, we may very well look into that – but let's not remember that Spike is a master vampire in his own right. He's killed two Slayers himself, Buffy; it wouldn't do to forget how dangerous he is just because Angelus is taking most of our attention."

"I think Buffy's got a point, Rupert," Jenny said, cocking an eyebrow. "Angelus has been coming after all of our weak spots, right? That's how he works – he's a torturer. If we can strike back at one of _his_ weak spots—"

"Then there's always the chance that we could put a stop to all of this from the inside," Buffy finished for her.

"But how do you think you're going to _find_ Spike, let alone get him to listen to you?" Willow asked.

"Actually, I was thinking of asking for your help on that, Wills," Buffy said. "How do you feel about one more spell?"

"I don't know how to do locator spells for vampires, Buffy," Willow said, but Jenny waved her off.

"I do. I can walk you through it, Willow, it shouldn't be any trouble."

"Oh, well, then, okay, sure," Willow said, sounding pleased. But she frowned after a moment, and turned to check that the water was still running in the bathroom. "But, I think that we're all forgetting something in this little meeting," she said. "Xander was a mess in the cemetery, Giles."

"How do you mean?" Jenny asked. Willow hesitated, then turned to Buffy.

"He seemed really confused," Buffy said finally. "Like, the more stress that was happening, the more he just started...I don't know, retreating from it. And then his powers kicked on and just started pushing everyone away from him, even Angelus. He didn't look like he was controlling it, so much, more like it was..."

"...a reaction," Willow finished finally. "But there was thunder and wind and...well, it was actually really freaky. My witch-o-meter was going haywire."

"I wanted to run away when I woke up; I could still smell it on him," Oz confessed, breaking his silence. "It was like I could smell ozone, like the smell you get when there's a huge storm about to break out on top of your head."

"With everything that's happened lately, it was pretty freaky," Buffy admitted.

"That was the danger that Marie-Claire warned me about," Giles said with a sigh. He poured himself another cup of tea. "Xander's powers are tied to his subconscious. When Avalon bound them when he was a child, Xander showed signs of a...fractured personality – not a split personality, per se, but something rather along those lines."

"You mean that freaky thing I saw during the spell – Alex," Buffy guessed, not much liking where this was going.

"Yes," Giles said. "You see, that side of Xander, he's likely always been able to feel, though repress. Now, however, it is once more a living, breathing part of him. He has no idea how to deal with that on a conscious level, and so, when he becomes too stressed or too angry or his emotions get the best of him, that side of him begins to take over – the id, the sub-ego, whatever you like. The most animal aspects of all of us: joy, love, hate, rage – given the power of an Elemental."

"Oh, Goddess," Willow breathed softly.

"So, basically, you're telling us that if Avalon had just left his brain alone when he was a kid, Xander would be totally normal right now? They _broke_ him?" Cordelia demanded.

"I have to agree with Cordelia on this one, Giles," Buffy said quietly, though her fists were clenched. "This is sick. They had no right to play around with his mind like that – hell, with his soul!"

"Buffy, you have to understand their position," Jenny broke in. "I may not agree with the Coven a hundred percent, but they do have the weight of the safety of the entire magical world and sometimes the human world with it on their shoulders. We all heard the Lady's story – you heard how hard she fought just to force the High Council to spare Xander's life to begin with. Now, we all saw what an Elemental demon is capable of when he's in command of all of his powers. If that kind of power was given to someone...not entirely stable..." Jenny trailed off awkwardly. "What would he be capable of then? Would he even be the Xander that we knew? They had a terrible choice to make, and Marie-Claire chose the lesser of two evils."

"Yeah, well, Xander pretty much got jipped out of having a choice at all," Cordelia said coldly. There wasn't much any of them could say after that.

"I think we had better try that locator spell," Willow said eventually. "We can deal with this later."

"Right," Buffy said, trying to sound business-like. "What are we going to need for this?"

"Help me move this table," Jenny instructed, and they all pitched in to move the solid oak table over, clearing a large space in the middle of the living room. "That's some high quality wood, Cordelia," Jenny said after they were all sweating.

"Please. As _if_ I'd buy cheap wood in one of _my_ projects," Cordelia said waspishly. Jenny didn't press the point.

"Rupert, do you still have that chest of magic supplies?" Jenny asked, and he hurried upstairs to get it. Jenny pulled out a map of Sunnydale from Giles' desk and spread it out on the table. "Willow, come sit in front of this. Rupert, I'll need two candles – it doesn't matter the color," she said on Giles' return. "And an athame," she said. Once they'd lit the candles and the others had moved back from the witches, Jenny knelt down next to Willow. "Now, Willow, this is basically going to be the same as any other locator spell – only, Spike is a demon, and he's also a vampire. The easiest way that you're going to be able to find him will be—"

"With blood," Willow said softly, eying the sharp athame nervously.

"Yes," Jenny said apologetically.

"Okay, then," Willow said. "Let's get this over with."

"Just remember, you'll only need a bit from one of your fingers – we don't need you bleeding all over the living room, alright?" Jenny said. Willow nodded. "Okay? Begin." She laid the knife down next to Willow and stood back with the others.

Willow took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, falling into a meditative trance quickly enough. For a few moments, nothing happened, and then a slight breeze seemed to tickle through the room, and the familiar smell of burning roses that accompanied Willow's magic breathed into their nostrils. The flames on the candles jumped just a little higher as Willow murmured something in Latin under her breath, before she picked up the athame. Without hesitation, she sliced into one of her fingers, her face showing no discomfort as she moved her hand over the map.

"Show me," she intoned in a deep voice that sounded unlike Willow, and then she allowed one drop of ruby red blood to drip down onto the map. It was the eeriest thing, Buffy remembered later, how the blood seemed to pause in midair, deciding, and then it drifted slightly to the left on the map before landing with a splash somewhere in the bad part of town.

Leaning in closer, Buffy sighed. "Willy's Bar, or at least what's left of it. There's probably still enough booze left in the place to keep some people looting it."

"I believe a stakeout is in order," Giles said with a sigh to match Buffy's. Oz and Jenny bent forward and helped Willow stand back up. The cut was already starting to close, but Oz nevertheless bathed it in hydrogen peroxide and taped a band-aid over it.

"Did I miss fun?" Xander asked as he finally stepped out of the bathroom, looking exhausted.

"Not really," Buffy said. "You look like you could use a nap of the year-long variety."

"I'm thinking that sounds really excellent right now," Xander admitted.

"Then, by all means, you should go to bed," Giles said. "Oz and I will ensure that everyone gets home safely; we won't make too much noise out here."

"Thanks, Giles," Xander said softly. He hugged Willow and Buffy and Cordy goodnight, and padded off to his bedroom.

"Do you think he should go to school tomorrow?" Buffy asked Giles.

"I see no reason why not," Giles said. "He seems to feel most in control when his normal life goes on, and I wouldn't want to interrupt that. The best thing that we can all do for Xander right now is to treat him as normally as possible. We'll see what else we can do in the morning."

"In the meantime, I don't think any of us need to be going home alone right now," Buffy said. "Does everyone have a cross with them? Giles, do you have extras?"

"Extras?" Giles asked, confused.

"Well, until we can figure out a way to revoke invitations to our houses, Angelus pretty much has an in on all of us. I think we'll all actually be able to sleep tonight if we put some crosses on our doors and windows. It might stop him from getting in," she explained.

"I never invited him in to _my_ house!" Cordelia said brightly.

"Me either – Willow, do you want to sleep over with me?" Oz volunteered.

"Well, I don't think my parents would be too keen on my staying overnight with a boy," Willow said hesitantly, blushing.

"I'll cover for you; you can say that you're staying at my house. Oz's will be safer," Buffy offered.

"Well, okay, then," Willow said, blushing brighter.

"My house is safe, too," Jenny said. "Buffy, if you want me to drop you off at home?"

"Sure," Buffy said. "So, I'll see you at school tomorrow, Giles?"

"Right. First thing tomorrow morning, and we can continue discussing all of this," he agreed.

"Okay," Buffy said. "That cross thing will be good here, too."

"Yes, I imagine it might be," Giles said. After they had all gathered their things and left, he did just that – though he tiptoed into Xander's room and sprinkled holy water on the windowsills, as well. On his way out, he looked down at Xander's sleeping face fondly. The boy looked so terribly innocent in sleep, his face smoothed out. Giles sighed, wishing that there were more he could do, but the only thing that seemed helpful at this juncture was to let Xander sleep it off.

He shut the door behind him before heading back into the kitchen, where his sink was full of empty teacups. _They breed_, he thought gloomily, before putting on a pair of yellow kitchen gloves and starting the hot water.

**888**

The next day dawned as bright and ugly as Xander had expected it to. Giles woke him up, as he had done all week, and Xander listlessly ate breakfast. "Are you alright, Xander?" Giles asked as they gathered their things to leave the apartment.

"I didn't sleep well," Xander replied, which was true. His dreams...hadn't been restful. Xander felt like he could go ahead and sleep for the next solid week, but he forced himself to down coffee with Giles and continue in the world of the living, if only for a little while. When they got to school, Giles looked like he was going to say something, but he finally just sighed and told Xander to have a good day. Xander nodded and smiled vaguely back at him, and headed in to school. He saw his friends talking in the quad, and he circled them cautiously, making it into the hallway without them seeing him.

He couldn't take them right now, the light laughter and conversations that had punctuated this week. Xander wrapped his sweater tighter around his shoulders and headed down the hall, trying to ignore the way half of the student body seemed to be staring at him. He could feel the waves of feeling washing over his skin, more sensitive to the feelings since last night – pity, distrust, interest. He clenched his eyes shut and walked into homeroom fifteen minutes before it started and just sat down, staring at nothing.

When Buffy and Willow and Cordelia came in as the bell was ringing, Xander tried not to notice the hurt on Willow's face or the concern from Buffy or the suspicion from Cordelia. Instead, he smiled at them and said hi, and waited for the bell to ring. The day passed in a blur, class after class of meaningless words and empty lessons, and Xander felt so disconnected from it all, like he was standing still as a rock while the world raced by him in a flowing whirlpool that he didn't dare step foot in lest he be lost.

When lunch came around, he skipped that too.

**8**

"I'm really worried about Xander," Willow said as she, Buffy, Cordy and Oz sat down at their table, the empty fifth seat feeling more and more conspicuous as the minutes went on. "He's been so distant all day..."

"Well, why wouldn't he?" Cordelia asked, starting in on her pre-sliced apples. "I mean, you saw how freaked out he was last night, and on top of all that craziness we talked about at Giles' last night, he's probably considering taking an extended vacation in a padded cell."

"Cordelia!" Buffy snapped. "That _isn't_ funny!"

"Sorry," Cordelia said, surprised. "It's not like I stomped on your mother or something, Buffy; why'd you bite my head off?"

"I _have_ stayed in a mental institution," Buffy said coldly. "It isn't a joke."

"I didn't know..." Cordelia said, horrified, after the silence had gone on for a minute or so.

"Why did you go?" Willow asked, plucking at her sweater and not meeting Buffy's eyes.

"Right after I found out I was the Slayer," Buffy said, staring down at her plate of food. "I told you guys about Lothos, right?" When they nodded, she sighed. "Well, after Merrick, my first Watcher, died, I was trying to piece my life together. And I tried to tell my mom about Merrick, and then my parents found my diary, and they thought that I had made up vampires and demons because I wasn't dealing with my issues, and that I'd burned down the gym as, I don't know, some kind of cry for help? But they put me in the community ward for a couple of weeks. It was probably the worst time in my life."

"That's harsh," Oz said, patting her hand. "Do you want my chocolate milk?"

"I'm okay," Buffy said, taking a sip from her water bottle. "But, trust me, that's the _last_ place Xander needs to go. We just need to do what Giles said, you know? We need to find him, and talk to him, and try to get the world spinning back to normal. And that's why I'm going to hunt down Spike tonight. I'm going to see what I can do about getting the shoe on the other foot when it comes to Angelus. I'm not going to let him do this to Xander, not while I have a chance to stop it."

She looked so overwhelmingly sad and lost that Willow didn't say anything else after that. They all finished their lunch in silence and split up, Buffy heading toward the library and Cordelia towards her other friends, and Oz headed to the music room as Willow went to science class as the bell rang.

**8**

Xander thought that he might light himself on fire if Mrs. Henley didn't stop droning about French history; he had a massive headache and if she liked the damn country so much, why didn't she just give up the ghost and _move_ there? Wasn't World History supposed to be a more _rounded_ class? He winced at the way too obvious pun and lightly massaged his temples.

"Xander, do you need to go to the guidance office?" Mrs. Henley said suddenly. He looked up. Half of the class was staring at him. He had to fight the urge to snap at all of them and scream 'boo!' Instead, hating the look of pity on his teacher's face but wanting more than anything to just get _out_ of there, he nodded and gathered his things together, practically sprinting out the door before anything else happened. He considered the library, but Giles would be there, and the last thing that Xander wanted was to see the look on Giles' face when he saw that Xander had been unable to get through one Friday's worth of classes.

Instead of the library, Xander headed outside.

**8**

"Okay, Giles," Buffy said as the headed in to the library. "I've got this period, so let's plan—" She stopped herself when she saw Giles talking to a stranger as the door swung open.

"Hello," said the man, turning towards her with a smile on his face. "You must be the Slayer I've heard so much about."

A _hot_ stranger, Buffy corrected herself. He had a Grecian face that looked like it belonged on a marble statue, with lightly tanned skin, stunning hazel green eyes that twinkled in the light, a charming boyish smile, a tight red shirt that showed off how obviously ripped he was, and spiked brown hair that she wanted to run her hand through. _Jeepers_, Buffy thought weakly. "Uh, hey," she said out loud. She didn't offer her hand, however; his smile was bringing back painful memories of the last beautiful stranger she'd met who knew she was the Slayer. She glanced at Giles, who had a slightly fixed look on his face. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mitch Johnson," the man said, his smile fading slightly. "I was sent here from Avalon."

"You don't much look like a powerful witch," Buffy said, taking in his red muscle shirt and fashionably torn jeans. He looked more like a Tommy Hilfiger model than anything else, she thought critically.

"What were you expecting, exactly?" Mitch asked, sounding slightly offended. He had a deep, husky voice that she was annoyed to find attractive.

"He is who he says he is, Buffy," Giles said softly from behind her. "I checked."

"Right, well, now that we all know each other," Mitch said, sarcastic humor evident in his voice, "I was wondering where Xander Harris is."

"You're wrong, buster," Buffy said, stepping forward. "And the last guy from Avalon I met had a serious yen to hurt Xander, so you're going to have to do much better than that if you expect me to let you anywhere near him, alright?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Fair enough," Mitch said, hopping up to sit on one of the tables. It was a young gesture; she realized that he couldn't be much older than twenty. Why would the Lady of the Lake send someone so young? Buffy had a feeling that there was much more to Mitch and his being sent to Sunnydale than met the eye, and she eyed him suspiciously as he uncrossed his arms, no doubt thinking it looked more friendly. She'd seen the kind of damage a witch could do with a wave of fingers, and she wasn't taking any chances. "What do you want to know?"

"Why you? No offense, but you look like you should still be in college. Why send someone so young for a problem this big?" Buffy started off.

"Yes, frankly, I was wondering the same thing myself," Giles said, standing on the opposite side of Mitch, pinning him in. Mitch was starting to look a little unnerved, which Buffy found incredibly gratifying. _I suppose that makes me a bad person_, she thought carelessly, and moved a little closer.

"I don't know why she sent me, actually," Mitch admitted, sounding truthful enough that Buffy stayed where she was instead of trying to intimidate him further. "There are a lot of teachers more qualified than I am. I guess since Xander hasn't had any form of training in control, all of the lessons I'll have to teach him are things that a novitiate like me would know better than someone more seasoned in advanced techniques."

"I don't think that's it, exactly," Buffy said, unable to really put a finger on her suspicions. "But it'll do. How long have you been on the island?"

"Since I was a small child. I was born to a family of witches, so as soon as Avalon offered to train me they shipped me off," he said, his knee bouncing.

"You don't particularly look like you've been there your whole life," Giles noted.

"You think that we don't stay up to date there?" Mitch said, sounding amused. "We don't weave our own clothes, you know. Gods, they told me that your group was overprotective, but I wasn't expecting a background check or an interrogation." Despite his obvious nerves, he was still sarcastically mocking both them and himself, and his tongue-in-cheek mannerisms were starting to grow on Buffy.

"Xander means more to us than most people," Buffy said seriously. "You need to know that if it isn't me hunting you down if you hurt him, it'll be Giles, or Willow, or Oz, or Cordelia, or maybe all of us."

"Hurting him isn't my intention," Mitch said softly. His eyes looked up at her truthfully. "I swear."

"Okay," Buffy said, patting him on the shoulder. "So, when do you expect to start this teacher thing?"

"Something's wrong," Mitch said, looking up towards a window. "Out there..."

**888**

Willow finally found him on the bleachers overlooking the football field. The field was empty, hidden in darkness by the heavy clouds. "It's probably going to rain soon," she said softly. "You should probably be inside, you know, in class?" Xander nodded softly, still watching the grass. She sat down next to him and took his hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I wanted to go with him, Willow," Xander said hoarsely. "How sick is that?"

"It's not sick at all," Willow said calmly. He eyed her incredulously. "What, you think I didn't know? Especially after that spell, I feel your mind more than anyone's, Xander. I know how much last night hurt you. I don't particularly understand it, but what you have with Angelus or Angel or both of them, whatever, it's deeper and stronger than old magic, and that's not something you're going to snap out of or fight off in, what, one week of rejoining the real world? But you know the way to _not_ deal with it? Avoiding all of your friends. We don't _blame_ you for what happened, Xander, not even Buffy."

"I know, Wills. You guys are the only thing keeping me going right now," Xander said, clutching her hand tighter. "When Giles told me everything that you guys did to get me back, especially when I was...possessed, or whatever, it makes me want to cry, but I'm trying to not cry and be all girlie, not that being a girl is a bad thing—"

"Xander," Willow said, interrupting the babble. He shot her a sheepish look.

"It's just that...last night, when I lost control, it was like I wasn't _me_ anymore, like the power was just...it made me sick. I could have hurt one of _you_, and...it feels like I'm in the dark and you guys aren't, and I don't know how to deal with that."

"The Dance of Souls could have killed you, you know," Willow said softly, peering into the distance. "It could have turned you and Buffy and Angelus into mindless zomboids, left you all in comas. It could have killed _me_, too. But I decided to do it because it was the only way to save you. Sometimes, you have to take the good with the bad, Xander. You've got this power, and this heritage, so you should figure out how to use it instead of letting it use you."

"Easier said than done, Wills," Xander said.

"Well, try!" Willow encouraged. "Come on." She dragged him, protesting, off of the bleachers and into the field. "There's no one around, and I can protect myself. Just _try_ to do something. Like, I don't know, kick up some wind."

Despite himself, her words were ringing in him, and he closed his eyes. After a minute, feeling stupid, he sighed. "I feel like a moron, Willow."

"Don't give up already!" Willow said exasperatedly. "Here." And with no other warning, she poked him with magic, the equivalent of a friendly shove.

"Hey!" Xander snapped in protest. She did it again.

"Stop it!"

"Make me," she said, and did it again, harder, and without even considering it, Xander reached his hand back and she yelped in pain as what felt like static electricity snapped on one of her fingers.

"Oh, god, Willow!" Xander yelled, starting forward, but she waved him off.

"It startled me more than anything," Willow said. "That was really good, Xander! See, it was just a reflex. All you have to do is find the muscle and do it again!"

Xander examined his mind. It didn't feel like that awful rush of blackness or loss of control from last night. If anything, it had felt kind of...fun. He reached back, trying to feel that spark of concentration...if he could just _nudge_ it...

"Whoa!" Willow breathed, and Xander looked up, grinning, as the wind stilled around them, feeling more like a live thing than a force, something that he could give an order, so he did. "Hey!" Willow protested as her hair suddenly flew back from her face. Xander laughed as he turned it away from her. This was fun, it was almost like a game, as he saw small dust devils start to form, hopping from point to point on the grass. "Uh, maybe that's good for right now," Willow said hesitantly, but Xander was past hearing her.

Instead, the sky began to darken overhead as the clouds thickened, becoming a sickly gray color as Xander chuckled, and, with one sweep of his hand, cracked open with a sickeningly loud burst of thunder and poured down what felt like buckets of rain. Willow yelled as she was soaked through in half a minute. "Xander, stop it!" she yelled.

"I don't know how!" Xander yelled, panicked, as the winds turned on him, sensing his weakness. The water came down harder. "Come on!" he hollered, and grabbed her as they ran to hide under the bleachers.

"This is bad!" Willow said as the rain intensified, pea-soup mist starting to form on the ground.

"This was your idea!" Xander said, wringing his hands.

"Let's just see if we can fix it," Willow said, calming him down. "It's a situation, but we can deal, right?"

"Right," Xander said.

"So, you can start things but not stop them, that's not uncommon. Let's see if I can," she said, closing her eyes. Xander, his senses intensified by his use of power, felt the hair rising on his arms as something built next to him, and he squinted as Willow's outline seemed to brighten, and he suddenly had an inkling of just how powerful Willow could still become as she released a spell toward the sky. The rain seemed to hesitate slightly, lightening, and the fog began to clear, but it was still coming down, and lightning flared far too close to them for comfort. "That's about the best that I can do—oh my Goddess!" Willow screeched as two forks of lightning slammed down in the ground ten yards from them.

The storm had intensified, fighting through Willow's magic with vicious intent, slamming its way toward Sunnydale High School like the wrath of the gods.

"Willow!" Giles' voice called suddenly. "Xander!"

"Stay back!" a new voice said, and then there was a brightness next to Willow's, and she moaned slightly as it drew off of her and gave to her in turn, and then there was a flash of light brighter than anything Xander had ever seen as the storm moaned in something like frustration as it was shoved off in the direction of the sea, to die out over the waves.

Light was slow to return to the football field, and Xander and Willow slowly walked out from the bleachers, thoroughly freaked out. Standing in the mud, soaked, was Buffy, Giles, and a guy that they'd never seen before. Xander's breath caught as they all moved closer, the stranger coming toward him. The man was gorgeous, the effect of him something like Angel's had been – his type, he supposed. Xander blushed furiously as the man came closer and his brilliant hazel green eyes found his.

"What on earth happened?" Giles demanded, his voice returning to him with a fury that had Xander quailing backwards. "Why aren't either of you in class?" His disappointed eyes fixed on Xander and had the effect of making Xander wish he was ten inches tall so he didn't have to see it. He couldn't recall ever having Giles look at him like that since the love spell debacle, and the sight of the disappointment in Giles' eyes made Xander's stomach recoil.

"This storm wasn't natural," the unknown man said flatly, staring at Xander and Willow.

"I was...I tried to get Xander to try something, to cheer him up, like he could control it if..." Willow fumbled, then shrank back from the furious look in Giles' eyes as he stepped forward.

"You _what_?!" he snapped, looking more Ripperish than they'd seen in quite some time. "Willow, that was an incredibly foolish thing to do. I would have expected so much more of you than this recklessness. I think that you should go to class, _now_," Giles commanded, and Willow, looking like she might burst into tears, hurried off in the direction of the school.

"Giles...I—" Xander began.

"Xander, I want you to return directly to the library and start any homework you have to do. I'll be there in a few moments. Buffy will escort you there. Now." Giles wasn't looking at him, and Xander's stomach clenched as he nodded miserably. Eyes downcast, he turned with Buffy in front of him and headed toward the school. Buffy didn't say anything as they walked for the first few minutes.

"How are you?" she finally asked.

"I'm just great!" Xander snapped, then sighed. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't be yelling at you. I'm just pissed—"

"At yourself?" Buffy supplied. "You look like how I felt when Giles and you guys came to rescue me from that frat house after I lied to him. It's not a fun-type thing."

"I didn't want to disappoint him," Xander said. Buffy's hand slipped into his.

"He's only angry because he cares, Xan," she said. "Don't worry. That guy back there, the totally lunchable male? He's your new teacher, so things like this won't happen again, right?"

"_That's_ my teacher?" Xander asked, flabbergasted.

"Aren't _you_ excited? He's a honey," Buffy teased, pushing him toward the doors. "What did you think of him?"

"Guhmufaldibble," Xander muttered, blushing.

"Me _too_," Buffy said with a grin as the doors swung shut behind her.

**888**

Giles didn't talk to him the rest of that afternoon. He made sure that he was studying as he went over a plan with Buffy for that evening, and then when the final bell rang he packed his things together and drove them home. At home, he sent Xander to his bedroom and asked him to wait there until dinner, and Xander miserably agreed. In his room, he sat down and tried going over his notes in history, but there wasn't much there. For a few hours, there was silence, and then Giles called him from the living room.

They ate dinner in silence, but when Xander would have gotten up to start clearing the table, Giles asked him to sit still.

"I'm sorry that I snapped at you, Xander, but you gave us quite the scare this afternoon. Do you understand why I was so angry at you?" Giles asked him, regarding him seriously from behind his glasses.

"I know, Giles," Xander said softly. "I'm _so_ sorry!"

"I know," Giles said, and Xander looked up with a feeling of great relief to see that he was smiling. "It takes a lot to stop you from speaking for that long," Giles joked, and Xander laughed, feeling like a weight was lifting from his chest. He looked up at Giles again.

"Giles, Willow really wasn't trying to do anything either," Xander said. "She was just trying to make me feel better, make me feel like I was more in control. I don't think that either of us realized what was going to happen, the way that...she feels really terrible too, I mean."

"Xander," Giles said heavily, "Willow is much more practiced in the magical arts than you, and frankly she really should have known better than to magically provoke a response from basically one of the four basic elements that make up the earth itself, even if you are far less powerful than your ancestor. It's a subject that I expect Mr. Johnson will address with her as well, but she really is in trouble for what she's done, and I expect that she appreciates why."

"Mr. Johnson?" Xander asked.

"Your new teacher from Avalon – you met him briefly on the field. His name is Mitchell Johnson," Giles explained.

"Oh. Right, Buffy was talking about him," Xander said, blushing furiously.

"Are you blushing?" Giles asked, peering at him.

"No," Xander said flatly, blushing brighter.

"Right," Giles said, cleaning his classes. "In any case, you'll begin having lessons with him after your classes on the weekdays, or perhaps the weekends if he feels you need more practice. Now, you're still in trouble for that little stunt, but I don't expect you to beat yourself up too much over it all. I'd like you to do the dishes and return to your room and study for the evening, and we'll speak again in the morning."

"No dessert?" Xander guessed.

"There's always tea and scones," Giles said cheerily, and Xander groaned aloud as Giles laughed meanly at him as he schlepped off to do the dishes.

**8**

The next day, Giles let him sleep in. At breakfast, though, he put down his newspaper (after circling a few suspicious areas for Buffy to study with him later) and regarded Xander seriously. "I hate to have to bring this up so soon, but, Xander, the state has decided to hold the funeral for your father tomorrow. I agreed; I felt it would be best to do it as soon as possible. If you don't feel ready to go..."

"Oh. I'd forgotten," Xander said softly, taking a drink of his orange juice. "I'll be okay to go."

"Are you sure?" Giles asked softly.

"Yeah. Sure," Xander said flatly, and took his dishes up to the kitchen.

**8**

Xander's friends all met them at Giles' apartment, wearing black dresses, except for Oz, who was wearing a royal purple suit (which Xander supposed was muted and somber in the werewolf's eyes). Buffy's mom and Willow's parents were with them. Xander supposed that this made sense, because he'd known the Rosenbergs since he was still in diapers and they'd dealt with his family more than most people. Joyce Summers had stopped and pulled him into a hug without saying anything, and her wonderful lavender scent had reminded him so much of his mother on days when she was still getting up to go to church when he was very little that Xander felt a painful pang struggle through some of the numbness that had settled over his day. She lightly ran her head through his hair, and then stepped back to talk to Giles in a low voice.

Willow slipped her hand into his, letting him know in her silent way that she bore no hard feelings for how he'd accidentally scared her on Friday. Buffy and Cordelia and Oz all stayed close to him, too, forming a sort of honor guard, he supposed. He smiled and nodded at all of them, though his throat felt as dry as sandpaper. Jenny was the last to enter, dressed in blacks and purples, and behind her, surprisingly enough, was Mitch Johnson, who wasn't dressed in black but instead in white, though Xander figured that that was more of a Wicca thing than anything else. Mitch smiled gravely at him and went to greet Giles.

Once everyone had gathered together, they headed to the cemetery. Tony hadn't wanted a church funeral, or a wake – he was far too paranoid about his family members getting together and insulting his dead body, thus his decree of a closed casket. It was a bright, sunny day without a cloud in the sky as they pulled into Restful Oaks cemetery, named after the vast number of trees around the premises (the branches of which Buffy had used more than once to slay vampires rising from their tombs). Xander realized with a start that Giles had handled all of this, and he felt a flash of guilt; no matter what Willow's computer fingers might say, Giles _wasn't_ his relative and this was something that Xander should have handled. He _was_ Tony's only son, after all.

Waiting at the graveside was a priest, and Xander's relatives from San Francisco – his uncle and aunt and cousin, all wearing expensive clothes, and Xander's drunken uncle Rory. Sighing, Xander went to go say hello, before standing firmly with Giles. The relatives looked at him askance. "How exactly are we related, Mr. Giles?" Aunt Fay asked, sounding confused, and Giles looked like he was about to respond when the priest stepped forward, silencing them all.

Xander felt like vomiting as the priest droned on and on about ashes to ashes and dust to dust, about Tony's life as a helpful member of society and about the tragic nature of his death. Xander had loved his father, in ways that he couldn't explain even to himself, but he would never view the man with rose-colored glasses. Tony was an alcoholic, a wife-beater, a child abuser, and a narrow-minded, bigoted hypocrite. He told himself all of this. But when his uncle Rory, sober for once, put the first shovel-full of dirt on Tony's grave, the only memory that Xander could summon of his father was the very first time that Tony had hit him for leaving his toys out on the floor, how Willow and Jesse had both quailed and, shamed, Tony had taken them all out for ice cream and given Xander a chocolate cone the size of his head.

For the first time since the incident, Xander wondered which mental hospital his mother was being held in.

After the gravediggers came in and started shoveling in earnest, the rest of them split up, with the Harrises from San Fran making vague comments about planning a family reunion that none of them would keep. Rory looked around listlessly, hoping for an invitation, maybe, but Xander ruthlessly said goodbye and watched him drive away.

"Did you maybe want him to stick around?" Willow asked.

"What, and watch him get drunk and come on to Buffy's mom and then scream about what a great person dad was? No thanks, I'll pass," Xander said, but there was no fire in his voice. Willow squeezed his hand. They all milled around, clearly waiting for Xander to say something, but he wouldn't. There was nothing to say. His father was in the ground, where the worms were waiting to devour him. What was there to say? Xander clenched his fists and kept his silence, until the Rosenbergs left, and then Buffy and her mom, and then Oz, and then Cordelia. Giles looked like he was going to say something, but Jenny caught his hand in hers.

"We'll wait for you at the apartment, Xander," she said quietly. "Be back before the sun goes down." He nodded, and with a sigh Giles left with her, until there was no one there but Xander and the fresh grave. Through the hour it took to finish interring his father, Xander stood, watching, and there was no one, no one but death and Xander to have a small chat.

"I used to wait for you to get home from work so that I could talk to you before you drank," he said suddenly. "I wanted to tell you about my day, and sometimes, when I timed it just right, you would listen, and crack a joke, and then when you started drinking you wouldn't hit me or mom, you'd just go to sleep, and it would be alright for a few days. Some days, you'd get overtime and then it would be good too." Xander didn't have a clue who he was talking to, or why, but it felt better to just talk. "I'd try to get you and mom to have dinner sometimes, and you'd tell me to stop wasting food. I guess you don't have to worry about feeding me anymore, do you?" He giggled, a little, but it was a bitter sound.

"I should have just stayed home that night. Then maybe you'd be alive, and you'd be yelling at me for being a sissy," Xander muttered. "I'm so sorry, daddy." But he didn't cry. He just stood there, as the sun set further, and the shadows deepened. "You shouldn't be here," he told Angelus as the vampire stepped out from a crypt, the shadows of the stone protecting him from the fires of the cruel sun.

"I couldn't let you go through today by yourself," the vampire said.

"Why are you here, Angelus?" Xander asked, turning to face him. The pain hit him, just as it always did, as the vampire's beautiful face looked at him with longing.

"I want to bring you home, Xander," Angelus said. "I want you to come with me."

"You know why I can't do that," Xander said, looking down, defeated.

"I won't ever hurt you again, Xander," the demon persisted relentlessly. "I never meant for that spell to do what it did; you have to believe me!"

"I _do_ believe you. But that's not why," Xander said.

"So tell my why," Angelus demanded. "You want me; I see it every time you look at me. Why can't we be together?"

"Because you're a killer," Xander said miserably. He wasn't yelling, not anymore. He looked into Angelus' eyes and talked normally, stating facts. "You're a killer, and that was something that I let myself forget because of how I felt for you. Every night, you go on the hunt and murder an innocent person so that you can keep on living, or unliving, whatever. I nearly got my friends killed because of that. Can you look me in the eye, right now, and say that you would only ever feed on me, that you would never kill another innocent person, or take over the Hellmouth, or fight Buffy if she attacked you? Would you give up everything that you love about being a vampire for me?" Xander stepped forward, meeting Angelus' eyes.

Angelus looked infinitely confused as he slowly clenched his fists. "No," the vampire said, the word searing itself with bitter power between them.

"You have your answer," Xander said, defeated, and stayed in the sunlight while Angelus stayed in the shadows of the graveyard.

"Xander..." Angelus breathed. Xander paused, staring down at Tony's grave. His father was in there, his father who used to hug him and try to get him interested in football and baseball and protected him from Rory's drunken jokes. His father would never speak to him again...Before he could stop himself, Xander took one last moment of illusory comfort and turned, walking straight to the vampire and pressing a hard kiss to his surprised lips. Angelus responded with gusto, though, pulling Xander into his strong arms and holding him tight as he plundered Xander's mouth with hard lips and cool tongue.

Finally, before he could damn himself any farther, Xander pulled back, into the sunlight where Angelus could never follow. "Buffy's on the hunt for you. Please...be careful," he whispered, and then he turned around and walked away without a backward glance, out of the cemetery, out of the darkness and the promises it held as he felt a pair of possessive yellow eyes watching him all the way home. He was nearly out of earshot when her heard Angelus promise in a husky voice:

"I _will_ have you back, Xander."

And then the vampire turned and walked back into the crypt, and they were both gone, leaving nothing but the fresh grave of a broken man finally put to peace long before his time.

**End of Chapter XXIV**

**A/N:** You know, when I set out to write this it was only supposed to be like twenty-odd pages? HA! Hopefully this should keep y'all going until I post the next chapter. To give more music credit where credit is due, for the entire latter half of this chapter I listened to the entire _American Idiot_ album by Green Day (one of my favorites), the entire _Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Score_ album by the ever-amazing Christophe Beck (in particular the heartbreakingly lovely "Remembering Jenny" piece from what was quite possibly the greatest _Buffy_ episode ever, "Passion"), the _True Blood_ score album by the awesome Nathan Barr, and I think that that's about it. I love _True Blood_; the first season started off as something of a guilty pleasure but now I'm salivating at the thought of the third season (only three more months!!!!).

Also, in case you guys noticed some more direct references to events/quotes from the first two seasons of _Buffy_, in an effort to cheer myself up I'm having a rerun marathon of the golden age of supernatural television: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _Angel_, and _Charmed_. Since those three went out of business, many have tried but few have succeeded.

**Coming up Next on "the Passion of Angels and Demons"**

Training begins as Xander and Willow begin their tutelage with the mysterious Mitch, but Mitch may not have the purest interests at heart. Buffy strikes an uneasy alliance with Spike, whose reasons are his own, and Angelus ruthlessly takes over the Hellmouth as the master vampire, with his sights set firmly on the rejoining of he and his beloved...even while Drusilla's dreams could spell disaster for not just the Sunnydale crew, but the entire world...Next time on _the Passion of Angels and Demons—_

_***Chapter XXV — The Madness of the Vampire King***_


	28. XXV: Madness of the Vampire King, Part I

**A/N:** Another day, another chapter! As I said last time, I'm following my "Passion" muse. I've got the rest of this story mapped out; counting this one, there are now eight chapters and an epilogue left, so unless I get sidetracked by an interlude or end up breaking another chapter into two parts like this one, that's it! I say that triumphantly because I've been working on this story for so damn long, and then there's the sequel to it. Sigh. Either way, I'm incredibly proud of this thing, and I'll again take the time to say thank you to all of my fabulous reviewers who have stuck with this thing through thick and thin. Bless you!

**Warning, Warning, All Ye Who Enter Here:** I've always wanted to misquote that. In any case, just to let y'all know – this story is about to get pretty dark. I deeply respect Angelus as a bad guy (I'm in the middle of an epic rewatching spree, as I mentioned before); he's one of few vampires who ever actually scares people because he's fucking psychotic and he won't just stop at torturing you into insanity before he kills you, he'll get your family too, just to fuck with you. Why? Because he enjoys it. These next few chapters are going to get quite a bit darker. There will be fighting, there will be violent sex, there will be bloodplay and there will be gore. I figured I'd issue one last warning before you got more involved in this.

**New Fiction Pairing Recommendation!!** As I love _Bones_, I was skimming through the _Bones_ section on , and I came across this story called _The Brothers in the House_. Intrigued, I looked in, and this wonderful author named **Ptera_Waters** wrote a story crossing _Bones_ over with _Dollhouse_ and slashing Booth with Paul Ballard. It's a wonderfully written story with some hot sex scenes, plenty of mystery and intrigue, a few twists, and enough angst to wrench your heart. It's now finished, and I seriously recommend this to my readers; it was absolutely lovely. She's writing a companion piece now from Ballard's perspective, which I'm hugely looking forward to.

The pairing and the story inspired me so much that I've begun a new _Dollhouse_ fanfiction in my spare time that will slash the two together; you can find it in the _Dollhouse_ section under the title "The Sea."

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** Okay, there's a really quick explanation for breaking this chapter into two parts – I already had this chunk of chapter written, it worked alright on its own, and if I posted the entire chapter together in one part it would be more than fifty pages long. I'm on this whole thing about not giving y'all _that_ much in one go to read, so give me a little bit and I'll post the other half of this chapter.

_**MORE THAN 200 REVIEWS!!!!!!! YES!!!!!**_

Okay, I'm done now. But, seriously, THANK YOU! And, also, I'm going to take a minute to _really_ thank **asm613** for your well-thought and insightful reviews; you disabled PM's or I'd've emailed you to thank you already. So, anyway, here it is: thank you so much. It really means a lot to me. And, I hope that you continue to enjoy the story.

And so, with all of that out of my way, I'm going to go ahead and start the chapter now. Keep in mind if you get squicked out at all during the reading of this: I _warned_ you! ; )

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

_the Passion of Angels and Demons_

Chapter XXV, Part I—

_The Madness of the Vampire King: Master of the Hellmouth_

**Drusilla: _I'm naming all the stars._**

**Spike: _You can't see the stars, luv. That's the ceiling. Also, it's day._**

**Drusilla: _I can see them. But I've named them all the same name...and there's terrible confusion_.**

—from "Innocence" (written and directed by Joss Whedon)

_I smear your teardrops_

_I smear your teardrops_

_._

_Woke up to the perfect day_

_I was feeling more than okay_

_I had so much fun today_

_I got higher_

_Woke up to my favorite day_

_But then you came and put it to an end_

_And I know now, I know now:_

_Time is not a friend_

_Time is not a friend..._

—"Time" by Megan McCauley (No Album, available via YouTube)

Angelus stalked through the night as the miasma of the Hellmouth pulsed beneath him, feeding his demon, whispering to him of his mastery and his power. He smiled at the truth in that. After his humiliating defeat at the hands of the Slayer and her forces, Angelus had learned – that was what set him apart from other, lesser demons: an ability to learn from his mistakes rather than to try to revenge them. While he had had complete control over the lowly minion vampires and lesser demons that lived in the factory, they had all – other than a cursed few – been complete fools, with heads only for following orders and hunting for more blood, getting themselves staked through the heart by the Slayer more often than not.

While he hadn't been able to see it that way at the time, he realized now that Saint Buffy had given him an unexpected boon: she had cleared his head of managing that lousy group of idiots and left him to rebuild his forces the way that _he_ planned, rather than the Master. The Master had thrived off of the stupidity of his inferiors; keeping a select few as his high council, he sent his minions like pawns to be cut down by the scythe of the Slayer. But Angelus had already had a healthy respect for Buffy long before she had hardened into the fearsome warrior she had become these last months, and he had no need for fools who would all but walk into the path of her stake.

And so he, Spike and Drusilla had gone on a brief crusade, slaughtering unfettered vampires wholesale, until those few left alive pledged absolute fealty to him; it wouldn't do to have _no_ minion vampires left to distract the Slayer from him personally. And then he set about in secret to forge in the shadows a new court, pure of imperfections and loyal to him in the extreme, a weapon to unleash upon the Slayer. The battle in the graveyard a week ago had proven to him that they were all worthy, particularly Ella, who had never retreated until ordered.

As he neared the Bronze, Angelus cast out his senses, scenting the air for any breath of Buffy's scent. One benefit of his unnatural following of her while still possessed of that thrice-damned soul was a familiarity with her scent, enabling him to avoid her if necessary when the situation called for it. He shook with disgust at the memory of her kiss. After the soul had burned itself away in a moment of pure passionate happiness, an illusion of humanity, any desire for Buffy had been revealed as a desire to control her, to dominate her and keep her in the coven as family, though Angel had convinced himself that it was desire for her as he fought with her for some dream of redemption for his past crimes...crimes that Angelus was taking supreme pleasure in committing all over again.

He saw his prey as she stepped out of the Bronze alone, a young, slender Asian girl with braided black hair. He contemplated snapping her neck with a painful tug of that braid, and moved in with vicious intent.

"Hello," he said pleasantly as he appeared beside her, enjoying the burst of scent released into the air when her heart sped up in surprise. "Not leaving already, are you?"

"Oh, well, I mean, my parents want me home," she fumbled, in awe of him as they all were, he with the angelic face. He loved how her small, dark eyes roved hungrily over his frame, and lightly leaned back, emphasizing himself, dressed as he was in tight leather pants.

"It's a long way home in this part of town," he purred, leaning closer. "You shouldn't go home on your own. There are dangerous people that come out at night, this close to the full moon."

"How do I know that you're not one of those?" she asked, stepping backward. He blinked. Usually the younger ones came to him quite willingly. "I really think that you should get out of my way," she continued.

"What's your name?" he asked her with a smile. She met his eyes, refusing to be intimidated.

"Move," she commanded, her tone reminding him slightly of the cold royalty of Cordelia Chase.

"Make me," he taunted. He had, in his arrogance, forgotten to wonder why her accent was more reminiscent of Hong Kong than of California, and she lashed out with a vicious punch that snapped his head around and made him stumble back a step. She fell back into a fighting pose. "That, my love, was really the wrong thing to do," he told her softly, and when he looked back up at her, his face had shifted to that of the demon. She screamed in horror, but to her credit she didn't run, merely tried to throw the next punch, which he easily caught, ready for her now; she was fast but she was no Slayer.

He clenched his fist until he felt her knuckle bones beginning to pop in ways that they weren't meant to, and she screamed in pain and desperately pounded on his closed fist, but to no avail. Instead, he reeled her closer and with a sharp twist dislocated her shoulder. Gasping for breath, she bent down, moaning, and he casually grabbed her by the throat and dragged her further into the dark alleyway, where no one would come to help her.

"I'm impressed with you, sweetheart," he told her. He slammed her back against the wall and reveled in the sickening _crunch_ her skull made as it connected with brick, the scent of her sweet blood adding a sharp tang to the air around him. "So I'm going to give you a choice: I can kill you now, most likely rape you to death as I drink your hot blood," he continued, leaning in to lick a droplet of her sweat off of her brow. He loved how humans grew so like animals in the grip of terror, her dark eyes wide and frightened as she panted, looking more like a skittish horse than a young girl. "Or, I can give you eternity as a warrior at my side. But you have to choose quickly," he warned, wagging a finger at her like a naughty toddler as her head injury began to bleed thickly.

"Please," she finally whispered, shuddering and shaking in his grasp. "Don't...I'll be yours, please, don't kill me!" She hung her head in defeat, shamed.

"Sorry," he said with a shrug. "You're going to die either way." He drank down her howl of despair with a punishing kiss, bruising her lips as he broke it off, leaving her gasping and turning her head away, which only bared her slender neck. Chuckling, he struck like a viper and tore into her skin like a dog with a treat, using his tongue to widen the wound as he started sucking voraciously. Her blood was hot and spicy, but it lacked the sweetness, the satisfaction, the power of..._him_. Angelus had taught himself to ignore this, however, and the lack of satisfaction he found in her blood only made it easier for him to stop when she was at death's door. He pulled back a sleeve of his shirt and cut into his arm with a sharpened talon, until his dark, immortal blood began to flow, and he smeared her lips with it, watched her fight, watched her be seduced by his blood until she began to suck, and he moaned at the pleasure.

When she'd had enough, he shoved her off of him and snapped her neck, killing her in order to let his blood do its dark work. He glanced around until he saw that she did in fact have a purse that she'd dropped when she struck him. With that kind of fire, she'd make a fine addition to his growing forces. In her purse, Angelus found a wallet with a home address. It wasn't that far from here. Grinning, he slung her body over his shoulder and headed off toward the subdivision.

In a town as small as Sunnydale, it only took him five minutes to reach her house, even dragging the dead weight with him. He arranged her on the doorstep and casually ripped her shirt off, artistically slashing into her small breasts, and opened her skirt, fingering her dead body viciously until it simulated sex. He'd leave her there to rot overnight, and when her dear parents opened the door in the morning, they'd find her, drag her inside, and by the time they got their heads together to call the police, little Lisa Yu would have her first blood meal as a vampire.

Propping her mouth open and opening her eyes to sculpt her face into a rictus of pure horror, Angelus stepped back to admire his artwork, and then turned and walked into the night, his work and his meal done in one fell swoop. He would head back to the mansion soon, of course, but for the moment he just let his feet wander where they would. He wasn't, of course, altogether surprised when his feet took him to the Watcher's apartment, to the side where he could peer through the window and see his sleeping boy. He burned with rage and distress that his claimed was in an enemy's house (_by choice, no less!_). But he peered in through the window and smiled as he saw that even in sleep Xander's body turned instinctively toward him.

He had been patient with the boy, offering a return to his side where he belonged peacefully, but Xander had rejected him, in mind at least. The memory of the boy's hot kiss on his lips by his father's grave had Angelus' cock hardening. It had been far too long since he and his claimed had joined the way they were meant to. It was time to fix that. Xander couldn't break free of this. He had no choice. And if his wooing were rejected, then Xander would have to be brought to heel. While he was sure that he would miss the sweetness of Xander's chosen submission, he was also sure that Xander would come around. He would understand why Angelus would have to punish him for his disobedience and disrespect.

But he would not kill any of Xander's friends, not even Buffy unless he was forced to. He wouldn't break that promise to the boy. And he didn't want Xander broken; he wanted him _back_. And back he would have him. Angelus smiled as he saw that the foolish boy had left his window unlocked, and he easily slid it open. His hands burned viciously as he did so, and he saw with rage that the Watcher had consecrated the window with holy water and crosses. But his shiny reddened palms would heal quickly, and it would take far more than that to keep him away from what was rightfully his.

Slipping into the room, Angelus crept to the side of Xander's bed, watching with wicked pleasure as Xander's sleeping body turned toward his. He bent down and pressed a light kiss to Xander's brow, knowing the boy was too deep a sleeper to wake, and he left his present on Xander's pillow. He crept out the way that he had come, and repeated his promise to himself: _soon_. He shut the window behind him and vanished into the night, leaving as ghostlike as he had come.

**888**

Xander woke up feeling rested. Oddly enough, the goings on at the cemetery had given him some sort of closure, or maybe...he didn't know, he just went with it. He sat up in bed and froze as an envelope slipped off of his pillow. Xander frowned. Was Giles in here while he was asleep? He knew that the Watcher sometimes checked on him, which was kind of cool if a little intrusive, but...He took the envelope and shook it open, and stared, stunned.

It was a sketch, a beautifully rendered portrait of him, Xander, nude, his head flung back, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock hard, writhing on sheets on a four-post bed that Xander instantly recognized from the factory, with a large, fresh bite wound on his neck. It was signed with a large **A**, and it was dark red, and Xander could smell from the paper that it was signed in blood, a vampire's stamp of ownership. Almost unconsciously, his fingers reached up to trace lightly over his Claim scar, and Xander shivered.

Here. Angelus had been in here, his sanctuary. He bowed his head and shook, the paper falling to the bed, as the sunlight streamed in almost brutally from the windows.

**8**

"What on earth are you all doing here?" Giles asked, confused, as the Scooby Gang trooped into his living room from Oz's parked car.

"Three day weekend," Buffy explained. "I know Friday was freaky, but didn't you remember?"

"Er, no," Giles said, settling back down at the table with his tea. Then he frowned. "Why are you all up so early on a day when you don't have to get up for school?"

"We're here for Xander," Willow explained, putting down a bag full of chocolate bars. "He looked pretty torn up at the funeral, so we thought we'd bring a care package with lots of hugs!"

"At some point, you will all have to learn my phone number," Giles said glumly. "Then perhaps you can ring ahead if you're planning to drop in, and I can actually dress."

"I like that robe," Cordelia said. "It just screams gentleman of leisure. I can totally see Hugh Heffner wearing that in his decadently rich mansion..." She trailed off, a slightly dazed gleam in her eye.

"Hugh Heffner?" Giles asked, confused.

"Right! So, where's Xander?" Buffy asked brightly, looking around and trying not to blush.

"Right here," Xander said flatly from the hallway. He was dressed in jeans and black T-shirt, and the forbidding expression on his face made them all pause. He walked forward and put an envelope down on the table. "He was in my room last night, Giles." They all froze, peering in, and sure enough the envelope had Xander's name on it in Angelus' flowing script. "He was in my room, going through my things, leaving things on my bed. We _have_ to do something about this invitation."

"Are you alright?" Buffy said, reaching up. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No," Xander said. "But I don't want to think about him being able to just stroll into all of our houses. I mean, we were all talking about getting the drop on him, right? We should start by figuring out a way to stop him from getting to us in the places where we let our guard down the most."

"An excellent point," Giles said, sitting up. "I'll call Jenny; she and I have been researching different magics relating to vampires, and she'll have some more books. We can all do some research together today."

"Right! Cause, together," Willow said brightly. "We brought you chocolate." She offered up the bag toward Xander, and even he had to crack a smile.

"Thanks, Wills," he said gently, and they shared a smile.

"First, however, we'll have some breakfast, particularly _you_, Xander," Giles said firmly, pushing on Xander's shoulder until the boy sat down at the table, looking up at him with a frown of protest. "Everyone thinks better on a full stomach, and while you're living here you'll be eating a healthy breakfast." Xander sighed and tried not to grin as all of his friends smirked at him.

"How's the tea, Xand?" Buffy asked meanly when Giles had gone to the kitchen. Xander stuck his tongue out at her as Giles yelled, "I _heard_ that!"

In the end, they all went to the library. The school was wonderfully empty of Snyder and other such unpleasantness, and they called out to pizza for lunch as Jenny joined them and they spent their morning pouring over large texts in languages that were hard to decipher, so Giles made them all index cards of words and phrases to watch out for. Every once in a while, they'd hit pay dirt for a moment when they found mention of vampires or invitations, but it was usually a dud (though Willow had a memorable moment as she discovered a spell for vampiric aphrodisiacs, the details of which had her snapping her book closed with an small squeak and huddling closer to Oz as she went for the next book on the pile).

Cordelia had helped to open all of the blinds, and sunlight poured in to the library, making it a sort of warm haven in the noonday peace while the gang talked and ate and joked their way through what felt like a quarter of Giles' library, before Jenny leaped out of her seat with a startled cry of "Rupert, I've got it!"

They all tried to gather around her at once, jostling and elbowing each other out of the way, until a harassed looking Jenny shoved through them like a linebacker and handed the book to Giles, who shot them all a threatening look until they subsided and sat back down. Cordelia and Xander shared a smile, as Buffy and Willow looked sufficiently cowed. Giles sat down at the table and took a sip of tea as he paged through the chapter Jenny had pointed out, a triumphant expression spreading over his face as his eyes blazed through each line. "This is it," he breathed. "This is it!"

"So, we really can kick him out of our houses?" Buffy asked, leaning forward. When Giles nodded, she sat back with a satisfied nod. "This is good. This is the first step. What do we need?"

"Well, it's very basic, actually," Jenny said, reading over Giles' shoulder. "Just some chanting, some herbs, a religious symbol and some consecrated water. As a matter of fact, I'm sure if you all contacted the new guy from Avalon, he could help you get this done before dinner."

"Well...wait; what do you mean 'you guys'?" Cordelia said, looking around. Jenny looked down and sighed. "Oh, _right_, that whole banishment thing. That's gotta get depressing after awhile, I mean, since none of them are ever going to talk to you again and...I'm shutting up now." She carefully pulled out a compact from her purse and started checking her reflection, ostensibly not looking at Jenny.

"That's a good call, Ms. Calendar," Buffy said. "We should call Mitch. And tonight, I should go on the hunt. It's time that I found Spike and figure out if this plan has any kind of shot at working."

"Good idea," Giles said, springing up. "Why don't you and I and Jenny discuss plans for the night, and the rest of you can get started on each others' houses. I have Mr. Johnson's phone number on my desk, Xander. Oz, if you'd like to drive? As Angelus seems to have particularly targeted my apartment, perhaps you could start there..."

"I live for wheels," Oz said, nodding. Willow smiled at him.

"Your van is important, sweetie," she told him.

"You two are so cute," Cordelia said. "Remind me to gag on the sugar after we get in the van."

"If you ralph in my lap, I'll _so_ ruin your shoes," Xander swore as they trooped out of the library.

"If you so much as _touch_ my Todd Gingham pumps – no, if you so much as _look_ at them funny, demon boy, you'll be licking my floors clean with that pump on the back of your neck," she swore, hissing poisonously. The two of them began bickering healthily as Willow and Oz linked hands and sighed identically. Buffy watched them go with a smile.

"It's good to see Xander and the rest of them smiling like that," she observed.

"Well, I know that _I'll_ sleep better tonight knowing that there's no way that that..._monster_ will be sneaking in to kidnap him through his window," Giles said, sitting down and rubbing his forehead.

"And don't forget that he could have attacked _you_," Jenny said, taking his hand in hers. Buffy looked down, a pang running through her. She hadn't been lying. It _was_ nice to see Xander looking more normal, more happy than he had in...well...long before Angelus had started stalking him. Maybe that was one of the things that was bothering her so much. She'd known Xander for more than a year now. And in all that time, he hadn't felt comfortable enough to come out to her and Willow? Granted, he'd had a major yen for her honey, but, still...

When Buffy had first been Called as the new Slayer in Los Angeles, during her battle with the monstrous vampire king Lothos she had had help from a guy named Pike. Pike had been drawn into the battle more than anything by his attraction to her. But Xander hadn't been like that at all. When she'd first gone after the Master, Xander had fearlessly followed her down in order to save his friend Jesse. He'd give his all, constantly, in order to help those that he cared about. At first she'd thought that Xander had been motivated by trying to get in with her, but now looking back it was becoming increasingly clear that that wasn't the case. Xander had helped her because he believed that it was the right thing to do, trusting his life to her hands on more than one occasion. And it _hurt_ that he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her something this huge about himself, that had the potential to hurt him so much...

And then to have Angelus, the most evil of all vampires, be reduced to _wooing_ to get Xander back? Somehow, that wound in her heart hurt just as painfully as her memories of the first night after Angel had lost his soul, becoming the demon Angelus once more. The vicious glee the vampire had taken in stabbing her through the heart at her most vulnerable and twisting the stake like a demented jack-in-the-box... Angelus was not an average vampire, or demon, or evil. All vampires killed to survive, but this demon, this _thing_, took more pleasure in causing pain than perhaps any before or after him, an artist of torture. The stories she'd read of the trouble he went to in order to cause his victims the greatest pain, even if he was only feeding to survive. The pleasure he took in displaying sadistic tableaux, in psychologically destroying an innocent soul only to twist them to his own pleasure.

The thought of that evil bent on making sweet, innocent Xander his immortal mate was enough to make Buffy's stomach twist with nausea, but then there was still that hearty pang of genuine rage at Xander, that he had somehow forgotten all of that to go play house with Angelus for _three_ months! She had seen inside of Xander's mind, seen the memories of how he had bent to his knees to accept food from Angelus as the vampire had crafted Xander into exactly what he wanted him to be! But she had been deeper in Xander than his mind; they had shared souls, and she could feel the love he held not for Angelus but for Angel, or perhaps for both of them, the conglomerate being that was the soul and the demon combined, and she _couldn't_ hate Xander because she knew what he was going through better than anyone.

But she couldn't keep beating herself up over this or letting it slow her down. She was the Slayer, and the guardian of the Hellmouth as well. There were other, greater nasties out there than Angelus, which she well knew, and letting Angelus dominate her thoughts was exactly what the vampire wanted, slowing her down and ultimately getting her killed. She would have to kill him. She would have to watch him bear Angel's face and remember Angel telling her that he loved her when she put a stake through that chest, watch the pain bloom on that beautiful face. She would have to feel her heart shattering with his, and then afterward she would have to watch Xander break into a million pieces, because no matter what he said she knew that if Angelus hadn't been stupid enough to fall into the Elemental's trap and shatter Xander's trust, Xander would still be in the factory with the vampire right now.

And that was why she was doing this. Because Angelus _was_ evil, and he was murdering innocent people and destroying innocent lives, making Xander one of his victims, however unintentionally. And she had allowed this. She'd had her opportunity to dust him after they'd conquered the Judge, and she hadn't taken it because she'd been too weak. Xander had paid for that, and so had she, and hundreds of other victims whose names she didn't know, and names that she did, like Theresa, who had been a friend until she had become a demon.

"Buffy?" Giles' voice broke into her thoughts, and Buffy regarded him with her best 'I was listening' look. He shot her his best 'no, you weren't' expression and Buffy made an oops face. He apparently decided to let it pass for the moment and continued. "We've agreed that tonight will be the best opportunity to test your theory on Spike. Our basic plan of action is for me to drive you within a block of the remains of Willy's Bar. It's apparent that the remains have become a sort of haven for the few vampires left in Sunnydale who aren't part of any court, as they drink their way through what's left of the alcohol and blood in the fridge. If you get into any trouble, I'll be close enough that I can provide an escape route and far enough away that Spike will hopefully remain unsuspecting."

"Good plan, although I'm lacking some finer points," Buffy pointed out. "What am I going to _say_ to Spike? 'Hey, I know that we've hated each other's guts for the longest time but are you by any chance unhappy with your current living arrangements?'"

"I see your point," Giles said. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. "But we've got to try _something_ at this point. I hate to say this to you in particular, Buffy, but Angelus has become more than a threat. He is no ordinary vampire! He has been stalking all of us for months, and as you're sure that he feels more rage toward you than any of the rest of us, he will likely strike hard and fast. The time for playing games or biding our time is over – you were perfectly right to suggest Spike as a weak link. It's time to end this!"

"Do you think I don't _know_ that, Giles?" Buffy demanded, jerking to her feet. "This is _my_ fault, remember? Every single dead body that falls from that _thing's_ hands lands right at _my_ feet, right? I'm the Slayer. I should have killed him the second that he joined up with Spike and Drusilla!"

"Blaming yourself isn't going to get anything done!" Jenny snapped, also standing. "Mistakes were made, on _all_ of our parts, mine more than most. But don't you see? This is how Angelus works! He gets inside of your head and before you know it he spins you around until you're playing whatever sadistic game he's concocting next! He is a master at this, and he's also probably the most dangerous vampire you'll ever face. But for the century that he's been alive, he's defeated anyone and anything that came up against him, and that's how you're going to win, Buffy – because he's arrogant and he's formed patterns. You're the most successful Slayer in history because you're so _unpredictable_, because you break _out_ of patterns! Not to mention that you've got friends and family standing behind you, Buffy. You're not alone in this like the other Slayers he's come up against. You're going to win."

Buffy was trembling by the end of Jenny's speech, and she let Giles pull her into a hug as she pulled herself together. The fact of the matter was, Jenny was right. Lothos had murdered more Slayers than any other vampire king in history, and she'd torched him with hairspray and locked him in a high school gym. The Master, one of the oldest and most powerful vampire lords, she'd kicked his ass _after_ he'd killed her and then smashed his bones to powder with a sledgehammer. The Judge she'd gone after with a bazooka. There was no way that she was going to let Jenny be right, to let Angelus turn her into another Drusilla. She was gonna kick his ass.

"Alright, so we know that none of the vampires in Angelus' little family are normal, right?" She stepped back from Giles, brushing her hair back from her face. "I mean, even the Lady of the Lake told us that they were more human than most demons which is why they're so vicious. So, what would that entail?"

"We know that Angelus is fiercely possessive, and that his vampiric family mean a great deal to him," Giles said, paging through one of the Watchers' Journals. "Likely one of the reasons his anger toward Buffy is so great."

"Because he thinks that I made him kill Darla," Buffy guessed.

"But he abandoned them for a hundred years," Jenny said. "And then he blows back into town taking over everything that Spike was in control of, and the Hellmouth—"

"And _Drusilla_," Buffy breathed. "I mean, vampires have sex with each other in their covens or whatever, right, Giles? Well, Spike and Dru have stayed together for how many years now?"

"And, as twisted as she was made into by Angelus, she would likely leap at the opportunity to reunite with her dark father," Giles acknowledged, slowly smiling.

"_That's_ our way in," Buffy said triumphantly, smacking the table. "The heart! Thus, oddly, proving its existence in Spike's creepy little chest."

"Much as I hate to sound like a broken record, Buffy," Jenny said, leaning forward, "but please be careful. Spike is still dangerous, especially now that he's fully healed."

"You're not wrong," Buffy said. "I shouldn't go to this thing without packing some heat."

"More hellfire?" Giles guessed.

"No, I'm thinking multiple stakes. Sharp, pointy ones," Buffy said, heading for the weapons cage. "And besides, if this doesn't pan out, it's not like Angelus can get revenge by getting one of us in our houses, right? He won't be able to get in!" Buffy loaded up on weapons, feeling more in control of her life than she had in months. It was a good feeling.

**888**

During the day, heavy drapes were hung over the windows of the mansion to keep them safe from the rays of the sunlight. The minions were hard at work digging access to the sewers, but for the moment Angelus was trapped within the Gothic kingdom he'd found at the edges of Sunnydale. It was far enough away from town to be isolated but close enough to it that the dark emanations from the Hellmouth could still easily be felt, keeping him on top of everything that he wanted to keep track of.

The master bedroom was particularly impressive, a massive room with a large four-poster bed. Xander would love it when he came back. Angelus stretched out calmly on the bed, imagining the warmth of his pretty pet next to him. The fireplace was cold now, but soon the minions would bring back wood, and he'd be able to chase back the dampness. One thing he was glad he'd been able to convince Darla of when she'd first come into his life was that they shouldn't live underground like rats the way the Master wanted. He loved the feeling of a large, plush bed beneath him again. This was the luxury his boy deserved to live in.

He was so tired of waiting, and yet his sweet Xander was just so fragile. It wouldn't do to simply abduct the boy, although that was certainly an option if other methods couldn't be used to bring this rebellion to heel. Angelus was haunted by the memories of when he would come home and his sweet boy would be waiting nervously by the door, trying to appear casual when his master returned to their bedroom. Sometimes, Angelus would simply lift Xander into his arms and the boy would bury his face in the crook of the vampire's neck and shoulder, pressing secret kisses there until Angelus lifted his face to his and kissed him until the boy cut his lips on Angelus' fangs, the light droplets of his blood on Angelus' tongue...

Angelus let his fingers tickle down the muscles of his abdomen, toward the light dusting of hair he had around his bellybutton, leading down to his pubic hair. Xander loved to tickle his fingers through that hair, sometimes following with his nose and lips, leading down to Angelus' erection. His fingers were so much smaller than Angelus'...The vampire let out a light moan as he let his fingers circle the meaty head of his cock, feeling the droplets of precum gathering there (_Xander loved to taste that..._), spreading it around, letting it ease his way as he began to stroke, memories of his boy taking over...

There was a loud knock on the door, and Angelus snarled viciously at the interruption, swinging his legs over the bed and stalking to the door to open it. Standing at the other side was Ella. To her credit, she didn't look at his nude body the way his other followers did, even Spike when he thought his Sire wasn't looking. In fact, it was _odd_ that she wasn't gazing at him with attraction in her eyes. Perhaps it was vanity on his part, but he was Angelus – the one with the angelic face. They all came to him with desire in their eyes, and they all suffered for it. But it was that selfsame strength of character that led him to trust her with her higher position, now that he felt he could no longer trust his Spike to stay at his side.

"Is there something that you needed?" he demanded after a moment as her eyes stayed on his face, his erection beginning to subside.

"I think that you should worry about William the Bloody," she said bluntly, not bothering with the usual minion kowtowing. Her effrontery was offensive, but refreshing, and he had far too few trusted vampires at his disposal now.

"Worry about him?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

"He worries me. His attachment to the insane one is obsessive and it leads him to distraction. He refused your orders to attack the Slayer and her crew. If he had been there, the attack would have gone differently." She had already learned to control her human face. She regarded him with icy cold emerald eyes, her lush, full lips curved in a way that would have been sultry were it not for the deadly sociopath he could sense lurking behind it. Desire stirred in him, but more than that was worry. He'd need to bed her soon, or else she'd need breaking like Drusilla, and his tolerance for his beloved mad Childe were at times as deep as a dry creek.

"Do you believe this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Then bring proof to me the next time you disturb me, or I'll tie you to the wall and have every vampire in this house rape you," he murmured. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering in her personal space and forcing her to feel his age, his power and mastery over her, until she finally relented and bowed her neck slightly, exposing her throat. "Good." He turned and shut the door behind him, letting it close with a snap in her face.

He waited until he heard her walking away down the hall before he crossed to his closet and began to dress, skinning on a pair of leather pants and a black shirt, thoughts of his desires for his mate dying down inside him as thoughts of running his court took precedence. His rage at the impertinence of Ella's attitude notwithstanding, she wasn't entirely wrong. Spike had defied a direct order of his master and, although Angelus didn't share her certitude that the mission in the cemetery would have gone differently, Spike's constant bucking of orders and his wretched attitude of late could possibly sew discord amongst Angelus' newly assembled court.

Despite dropping from the vampiric world for a time, Angelus still had an enormous reputation to stand behind him. But his chosen mate rebelling against him and his near-crumbling for nearly half a month afterward? Spike openly refusing his orders and his attitude possibly causing discord amongst Angelus' forces, court and minions alike? This couldn't be withstood. The Slayer was still alive, though that wasn't the most troubling issue; her defeat of the Master had most of the vampire population of Sunnydale cowering with fear at the thought of her. But soon he would have to kill her, if only to cement his control.

By now, the entire vampiric population of Sunnydale was firmly under his control. The mortals who traded in the demon world – sorcerers, warlocks, scum – he would ally himself with. Once Xander was back where he belonged, Angelus was certain that he could use that to procure Willow as an ally, perhaps turn her into a vampire. The girl had the obvious potential for massive power still untapped within her; if he could have a powerful witch and her werewolf pet under his control? Cordelia Chase as a vampire had obvious potential. And if Xander was so disturbed at the thought of losing Buffy forever, then he could turn her as well. There were records of Slayers being turned into vampires, becoming powerful ones as well. The Watcher would have to be brought to heel for daring to turn Xander against him – torturing him for hours...

Angelus felt a thrill of pleasure course up his spine at the thought. They hadn't even _invented_ chainsaws the last time Angelus had truly tortured one of his victims for hours on end. Or blowtorches, or refrigeration units or...Angelus opened his door and stepped out, heading down the stairs for the main lobby. It was time to observe his court at work, and the state of the minions. Once he had control of the Hellmouth, his plan for power was delicate, and he didn't want any upsets.

It was time to start reassembling his family. He was tired of being without the Scooby Gang under his control, audacious pups that they were. He wanted Buffy back under his heel. He wanted Willow and Cordelia and Oz decorating his court. He wanted Giles and that filthy gypsy bitch hanging by their innards from his dungeon walls. And he wanted his sweet boy back in their bedroom, hiding his affection in Angelus' neck with his beautiful mortal heart beating fast when Angelus fucked him the way he needed to be.

He'd see. Angelus was sure of that. And once the world was under Angelus' control, then Xander would truly be his, mind, body and soul, once and for all eternity.

**888**

Mitch Johnson lived in a small cottage near the beach, one of the little bungalow things the almost-rich rented for a few months during the summer. It was a cute thing, painted all over in blue. Sounding amicable enough on the phone, Mitch had given Xander directions and they'd driven over. He was waiting for them in the living room, dressed in a pair of torn-off khaki shorts and a white tank top. He looked like a model displaying some mall store's new surf-shop line, and Xander was once more taken in by his easy smile and the way that he had them all in like they were all already friends.

"So, what can I do for you guys? You sounded urgent on the phone," he said cheerfully. It was so refreshing to even be in the presence of someone so happy that Xander could only stare somewhat nonsensically at him for a moment. The darkness of Sunnydale hadn't touched Mitch yet – there weren't any secrets behind that smile. Xander grinned back at him, not noticing how behind him Willow and Cordelia were elbowing each other and smirking.

"We found this book of rituals of the undead," Willow said, holding it out to him. "It's got a recipe and a spell and everything in it to revoke a vampire's invitation to a dwelling, and since I'm still learning all this magic stuff we thought that it'd be safer to get your help casting it so that we could make sure that it worked."

"You mean that you're trying to kick that Angel guy out?" Mitch asked, taking it and leafing through the book carelessly.

"Angelus," Xander corrected automatically. Then he winced, hearing what he'd said.

"Right," Mitch said softly. His eyes caught Xander's, though the witch looked down quickly, leaving Xander confused as to what he was reading off of Mitch's aura now. It was warm, though, and comfortable, and Xander wondered what it'd be like sitting next to Mitch for a whole lesson. "Well, this sounds simple enough, and it's definitely gotta be on the list of things to do before the sun sets, good?" At their nods, he led them out, and Xander was struck at the fact that Mitch was half a head taller than he was, which was a nice thought. Mitch smelled really good, too.

For reasons he couldn't entirely articulate, Xander was smiling softly as Mitch corrected his longer stride till he was walking next to Xander when they all headed for Oz's car.

"So, what are lessons with you going to mean?" Xander asked as Mitch sat next to him on the back bench. "I mean, I suck at tests, just FYI."

"No tests!" Mitch promised with a laid-back laugh. "Mainly, what we're working on is control, just little tricks that I can get you so that you don't lose it and pull a _Carrie_ on us."

"You've seen _Carrie_?" Xander asked eagerly.

"Who hasn't?" Mitch asked, sounding shocked. He caught Xander's eye and chuckled, and for once Xander felt like he was in on the joke, too. It was a nice feeling. There was just something about the everyman of Mitch that was so...appealing, the way that he wasn't so high above Xander, so ethereally beautiful the way that Angel had been and Angelus was. When Xander's leg brushed against Mitch's, a pleasurable tingle shot up Xander's spine, and Mitch didn't pull his leg away.

For the rest of that car ride, Xander didn't think about the vampire once.

**8**

The first place they did was Giles'. "This is a really basic spell, Willow," Mitch explained. "Just stand here and watch me, okay? We'll do your place next and you should be able to just do that one on your own, right?"

"Sure," Willow said, sounding chipper. Oz smiled at her fondly as she leaned in, the scholar in her absorbing the magical knowledge as Mitch took out a small mortar and pestle and started sprinkling herbs in.

"Vampires are magical creatures themselves, so simple things from the earth can repel them: lavender to protect against evil, sage to purify, and salt to bind it all together," he explained, grinding them together quickly and efficiently until they were mixed together. "They can only be let in at the main entryway by invitation, so the owner – that'll be you, Xander – can get rid of them pretty easy. Just sprinkle this here." He handed Xander a pinch of his concoction, and Xander was sure that when their hands brushed this time it was Mitch's fault. Following instructions, Xander sprinkled it over the doorjamb.

"Any kind of religion is faith in something pure and good, which is a basic strength to repel impure demons like vampires," Mitch continued. "Crosses, pentacles, stars of David, crescent and stars, symbols of Buddha...pretty much anything. I'm gonna guess that a Watcher has a cross somewhere?" Oz dutifully handed him one from the desk in the living room, and Mitch hung it on the wall with a thumbtack. He then turned to the door itself and said in a calm, ordinary voice, "Vampire, demon, you who gained invitation through trickery, you are welcome here no more. I dis-invite you from this house and this home, that you may never again enter here without the invitation of my heart, which you no longer have. Leave, now, and bother me no longer."

There was a brief crackle of power, like the house itself was humming, and the door seemed to almost shine a little more brightly in the sunlight, but that was about it. Xander had been expecting a bit more razzle-dazzle, but he could feel that the spell had worked. He was confident.

"Don't you have to speak in Latin or something?" Willow asked, confused.

"Sure, if you want to be all ritualistic and boring," Mitch said. "Magic doesn't care much how you address it. What matters is that you state clearly and plainly what you want. So if English is your language, you use English. If Latin works best for you, use Latin. Of course, you could just use Latin if you want to sound like a pompous jerkwater, but then people'll just stop talking to you, and that's depressing."

"For a powerful witch, you sort of suck at inspiring awe," Cordelia noted, her eyebrow cocked. Mitch turned to her with a devilish grin as all of the windows opened and shut themselves in a phantom breeze that curled around Cordelia, lifting her off the ground as the doors in the house slammed shut, one by one.

"Looks can be deceiving," Mitch sang out sweetly.

"Put me down now before I go Lorena Bobbit on your ass!" Cordelia screeched. "Do you have any idea what this is doing to my _hair_?!"

Mitch went slightly pale as the telekinetic trickshow died down. "She wouldn't really do that, would she?" he asked Xander in an undertone.

"Never, ever underestimate Cordelia Chase when you stand between her and fashion," Xander intoned.

"I've trained you so well," Cordelia said proudly, brushing a mock tear from her eye. "Learn from his example, witch boy, and fear my wrath," she warned Mitch threateningly, before she turned to stalk out of the apartment muttering about men.

"Yikes," Mitch said. But he was smiling at Xander again, and Xander was starting to smile back.

**888**

Willow reentered the library later that day, when the afternoon was beginning to slip away, to find Buffy waiting for her with her schoolbooks. It was just about time to begin studying for finals, and Willow had promised to have a cram session with Buffy tonight before she went hunting. For a while, they battled their way through some history before Willow set Buffy some math problems. Giles and Jenny had gone out for dinner while the sun was still out, grabbing some alone time while they could.

"So, how did it go today?" Buffy asked, deftly dodging another truckload of algebra problems.

"Um, your mom was a tad confused why we brought a cute stranger up to inspect your room and put a cross in there. You might want to make something up," Willow noted.

"Great. One more inexplicable to add to mom's list," Buffy said glumly. "There are days when I really wish that I could just _tell_ her about the whole Slayer gig, but that would instantly equal maxi-wig out, and I don't want to stress her out any more than she usually is nowadays. Anyway! How was Mr. Johnson, the mysterious hottie?"

"_Very_," Willow said with a dreamy sigh. "Buffy, there's something I want to ask you. Do you think that Marie-Claire may have sent Mitch here for...different reasons?"

"How do you mean?" Buffy asked, abandoning math entirely. "I mean, I had my questions about why someone so young..."

"I don't think the age is it," Willow said slowly. "He seemed...I think that Xander kind of _likes_ him. And I don't think Mitch _minds_, if you catch my meaning."

"Oh!" Buffy exclaimed. "That just explains it, doesn't it? Oh, she's smart! She's devious!"

"I don't get it," Willow said, not catching on to Buffy's ride on the cognitive leap train.

"Xander _likes_ him, Willow, and Mitch might be _interested_? Marie-Claire treats Xander like he's her _kid_, practically, and she makes all these comments about keeping him away from Angelus for his mental health?" Buffy grinned as she sat back, gratefully tossing her pencil down.

"Oh...you think Marie-Claire sent Mitch over to _hook up_ with Xander? Don't you think that that sounds a little far-fetched?"

"Well, think about it – even Mitch doesn't know why they'd send over someone as young as him to take over teaching Xander. And Marie-Claire says all this stuff about how unhealthy the relationship between Xander and Angelus is, and then she just _happens_ to send over the youngest and hottest witch on the island who happens to swing that way? Come on, Wills; we've lived in Sunnydale _way_ too long to believe in that much of a coincidence."

"When did our lives become so soap-opera-y?" Willow asked with a sigh, banging her head against her math book.

"We go to high school and we're teenage girls with superpowers," Buffy said, digging some gum out of her backpack.

"This is true," Cordelia said from the front door. "I just had to dump Jim Brammer in front of the entire quad." She set her backpack down next to Buffy and sat at the end of the table, flipping open her notebook to where the two of them already were.

"I didn't know you were dating," Buffy said, confused, passing Cordelia her nail file.

"We _weren't_. I let him take me to the Bronze, _once_, and then he started this whole thing the next day about how we were 'going steady.' _Please_. Who even _says_ that anymore? So I had to stomp on the little puppy today before he started hanging over me and drooling into my frappucino, and he tried to yell at _me_. I don't _think_ so! So I sicced Harmony on him because she's been trying so hard to get back into my good graces, and now I think the two of _them_ are going to go out." Cordelia rolled her eyes heavenward. "So what were you two talking about?"

Willow filled her in on Buffy's idea, and to her surprise Cordy let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Well, that's just hilarious, isn't it? That's exactly the sort of thing I would do, especially if I wanted to keep an eye on Xander without looking like that's what I was doing. I may not respect her clothing but she's on top of things," Cordelia explained. "So, Buffy, aren't _you_ going manhunting tonight?"

"Not when you make it sound like _that_," Buffy said, shuddering eloquently (at this, Willow rolled her eyes to the skies and started putting their textbooks away, giving up on the study session). "I'm going to hunt down Spike's unfortunate butt and make him talk to me – or to possibly give him a good long introduction to my fist before he goes on a trip with Mr. Pointy."

"Oh, come on," Cordelia said huffily. "Even _I_ can admit that Spike is totally lunchable."

"I suppose that there are some that would fall for the hunky British punk thing," Buffy acknowledged. "Some that have _eyes_, okay?!" she snapped when Cordy and Willow shot her disbelieving stares. "Fine, he's hunky. But he's also evil and a _vampire_. And stop looking at me like that. I only date the living!"

"That's probably good news," Willow smirked.

"What are _you_ smirking about?" Cordelia asked, sounding annoyed. "_You_ get to start hanging out with that Wicca-_babe_ in the afternoons, and Xander's probably going to get to _jump_ him this weekend, and Buffy's going after the _other_ hot vampire in town, all while the librarian and the computer teacher hook up. I swear to god, I'm living in a cheaply produced high-school porn flick and I'm _still_ not getting any!"

"Dear god," Giles said from the door, and turned around and walked right back out of the library with a mortified Jenny, as peals of laughter chased them down the halls.

**888**

"So, Xander," Mitch said, flopping down on the ground next to him. They were sitting in the sand on the small, semi-private beach that Mitch's cottage came with, and the sun was brightening the foam of the water to create a small circle of light and peace that Xander felt like he could have soaked in forever, letting the gentle shushing of the waves wash away the brutal past. "Where do you think we're going to start in all of this? I mean, do you have any idea what's going on?"

Mitch had decided after they'd warded all of their homes against vampires that he and Xander could start their first training session that afternoon. Cordelia had agreed for him, and he'd found himself alone with the mysterious (_and sexy_, he added silently) young witch on the beach that afternoon.

"Um, I figured there would be candles and weird robe thingies. Possibly wands," Xander admitted. Mitch laughed at him, though not meanly. When Mitch laughed, his whole head tipped back and every one of his white teeth gleamed. The muscles in the smooth column of Mitch's throat were doing funny things to Xander's stomach, and he started picking at the sand in front of him to stop himself from fidgeting.

"You really _are_ a greenie, aren't you?" Mitch said, sounding almost fond, though Xander told himself that he was reading _way_ too much into it. They'd talked on the way out here, and Xander had been delighted that Mitch had understood at least half of his vague pop culture references. It had been so long since Xander had hung out with a guy that he'd forgotten half of the fun of it.

"Greenie?" Xander asked, narrowing his eyes.

"It's what we say on the Isle for the newbies who don't know what the hell is going on," Mitch explained. Xander narrowed his eyes in mock threat, and Mitch smirked without retracting his statement. "Okay, I'm not really one for big long speeches, so I'm going to try to explain all of this to you without boring you to tears, alright?"

"Sounds good," Xander said, relieved – the last thing he needed right now was a Giles-esque lecture involving big words he didn't understand in order to make the information instantly forgettable.

"Good." Mitch turned so that they were both sitting cross-legged across from each other. As the sun hit the highlights in Mitch's hair, it hit Xander again how close Mitch was to his age. It was almost reassuring – though Mitch was totally out of his league, looks-wise, there wasn't that sense with Angel and then Angelus of overwhelming inadequacy. Where Angelus was nearly perfect, Mitch had flaws – his sense of humor, the mole on his face, freckles, what looked like a building widow's peak – but it was those flaws that somehow made Mitch so..._attractive_, like he was part of a world that Xander wanted to be in but couldn't quite reach.

"Any power that someone possesses is magic – humans and humanlike beings like witches or vampires or even demons all have some kind of magic in them, and those that can tap into it are usually called psychics in one way or another. What you have is old, wild magic that runs in your blood, and its so hardwired into you that its subconscious – you don't control it right now because you're not really in touch with the part of your brain that controls it. So what we have to do is teach you to start understanding that part of you so that you _can_ control it instead of it controlling _you_, which is, obviously, as we've seen, a bad thing."

"But that still doesn't explain what we're going to be _doing_," Xander complained.

"What I'm going to do is establish a psychic link with you," Mitch said. "It's not one of those things where I'll be able to see what you're thinking or anything," he said quickly, seeing Xander's backtracking expression. "What it's going to do is let me connect to you more easily. I'll be able to guide you and communicate with you what I want you to do. It's just a teaching thing!"

"Sounds hinky," Xander said accusatorily, not backing down.

"There's nothing sexy about it!" Mitch sputtered, actually blushing.

"I said _hinky_, not _kinky_, you freak!" Xander mock-yelled, enjoying watching Mitch squirm.

"I'm not – _you_ started it!"

"_My_ mind didn't take the innocent comment and turn it into all kinds of sex, mister," Xander informed him gleefully. "You're a pervert!"

"I am not!"

"Lies!" Xander thought that he was going to bust a rib soon, trying not to laugh at Mitch's consternating expression.

_Take that back!_ Mitch's voice sounded in Xander's head suddenly, but it was so much _more_ than that – it was everything that Mitch _was_, in his aura, a calm, sunny feeling that had Xander thinking that he was smelling fresh-cut summer grass and apples, but it wasn't smell so much as _feel_, and he could tell from those three words that Mitch was enjoying himself immensely and maybe more, but he couldn't name the other emotions he could sense from Mitch and he didn't try.

_No,_ he thought meanly, knowing that Mitch could hear him.

"Well, you can certainly pick up tricks," Mitch said after a moment, and Xander almost sighed with loss as he felt that sunny presence in his mind begin to recede from him. Then Xander registered what Mitch had said and finally lost it, howling with laughter as he rolled backward on the sand.

"What's so—" Mitch began, confused, until he sighed and chuckled meanly. "_Now_ who's got sex on the brain?"

"You started it," Xander returned, grinning.

"Okay, we really do need to get started, before we waste the whole afternoon," Mitch said with a grin, and Xander obediently sat back up to face him, though he was smiling more brightly than he had in what felt like years. "What I'm going to do is establish the link, and then I'm going to start guiding you toward using a bit of your power – nothing serious, like what happened the other day." He held his hands out, and Xander tried to ignore his accelerating heartbeat as he slipped his hands into Mitch's larger, rougher hands. Mitch had calloused hands from hard work, and the roughness of his fingertips made Xander shiver. For a moment, he thought Mitch was going to say something, but then Mitch closed his eyes and Xander followed suit.

There was a flash of feeling again, like what he'd felt when Mitch had first telepathically communicated with him, but it was stronger this time, and then he could feel a spark almost like electricity but richer, deeper, when his aura began to mingle with Mitch's. He felt naked, and almost ashamed – even in the midst of sex Xander had never felt this completely _close_ to another being, and any walls between him and Mitch were eradicated in that one moment. He knew so completely that Mitch liked him, and would never hurt him, and was safe, that Xander almost felt like sobbing.

_Okay, Xander – you still with me? This can be a little trippy at first_, Mitch's voice sounded in Xander's head.

_I'm...okay_, Xander thought after a moment.

_Good_, Mitch said, and he seemed to be smiling in Xander's mind. The sunny feeling was back. _What I'm going to do is picture something in my mind, and I want you to create the same thing in your mind._ What Xander saw was an image of a candle burning, but it wasn't an image so much as a memory. He saw the flame, felt the heat, smelled the smoke, all in an instant, and he summoned the same image in his mind, felt Mitch's approval. For a while they just worked on working together, being able to anticipate images or thoughts from the other, until finally Xander felt so relaxed that he was almost boneless.

_Now, I'm going to start something in the air around us. I'm going to let you try to solve it, alright?_ Xander couldn't tell if he thought out his acquiescence or if he just nodded physically, but then something began to build around his body – it was a pressure, but it tingled, and tickled, and there was a rhythm to it almost like a song that was so familiar that Xander instantly recognized the dust devil that was kicking up sand next to them. This was easy, and natural, and Xander sensed something awakening within him – a force, or power, or something that wasn't dark the way that he'd thought it was. It was a memory, or something like that, of when he'd known what to do about this.

He felt the power in the air around him building, and felt the charge of magic in his blood as he willed the wind to flow around them and lay the sand back to where it would, and released it with a sigh that was almost pleasurable. Feeling Mitch's surprised approval, Xander opened his eyes and started with shock.

It was nearly sunset already, and they'd begun working at three that afternoon. He was laying on his back, his side pressed up against Mitch's muscular chest, their hands still entwined, as a light breeze that was playful in nature and most certainly hadn't been there before settled down to play with the waves as Xander's power receded as peacefully as it had come.

"That was really good, Xander," Mitch said softly, and his husky voice was very close to Xander's ear, making him shiver. Xander looked up and saw that there was a very soft light in Mitch's beautiful green eyes as he softly freed their hands. Xander felt his lips curve up in a smile _brown eyes turning to yellow watching him with possessive pleasure; a hand between his legs as he was lifted and prepared to be taken; a proud demon bending over him and owning him, fangs in his throat as sweet lifeblood welled—_

Xander's Claim scar felt like it was abruptly on fire, ragingly painful in one moment and then gone as quickly as it had come, but the damage was done. Xander jerked back from Mitch like he was poisonous and jumped to his feet. In the last vestiges of the psychic bond between them Xander could feel Mitch's confusion and – was it hurt? But then that was gone, too, and Xander turned away from him. "I didn't realize that we'd been working so late," he observed instead.

"Magic has a way of making time meaningless," Mitch explained, getting to his feet. He didn't ask for an explanation. "I'll drive you home." His tone of voice wasn't as open or welcoming anymore, either, but Xander couldn't do anything about it now. He turned back toward the sea one last time and sighed as he felt the salt of the ocean on his skin like an open wound, and turned to follow Mitch to his car, the peace of the day broken once more by memories of jagged fangs and bloody wounds, some physical and some not, but all hurting just the same.

**888**

Angelus shook off the moment of pain as he clenched his fists. For a moment, he'd _felt_ Xander near him, all around him, and then it was gone, almost as if the Claiming magic was receding..._No_, his demon snarled emphatically, and Angelus agreed. He would deal with his boy when the time came. For now, however, he had work to do, and it wouldn't to to make his move on his rebellious mate until he was ready. For now, he hunted.

He had chosen Allen and Lucy to hunt with him tonight. He had taken Ella far too much lately, and he knew more than any the dangers of relying on a particular vampire; besides, Allen and Lucy had created wonderful minions thus far and he needed two vampires who he knew were absolutely loyal to him. The numbers were beginning to rise, and the tide was finally turning in his favor once more. These last two weeks' work had proved fruitful beyond his best estimates; with his new policy of keeping watch over newborn minions and escorting them back to the mansion before the Slayer or her Watcher even knew they would rise had granted them only two losses out of thirty.

With the twelve vampires of his court all turning minions at a rate he approved, Angelus now had twelve vampires who could be counted on as his council, and with tonight's blood nearly fifty minions, all already being brought to heel under his command, an army of the undead with no weak links. Each human who would be given the dark gift and turned into one of his demons was chosen for their strength, speed and brains, ensuring a lack of idiocy in his ranks that he approved of emphatically.

This last, of course, he wasn't expecting to make it through one night of an undead existence, but it would be a handy enough distraction to sweet Buffy before he vanished once more into the shadows. Angelus smiled at the thought as he stepped out of the shower and into fresh clothes, making sure that the blood was completely washed away from him. Downstairs, arranged for Buffy's viewing, were his four latest victims: the Sutter family, the Summers' next door neighbors. He'd managed to convince their slut of a babysitter to let him in fairly quickly, and made short work of both her and the Sutter's twelve year old daughter, arranging their lifeless bodies in a parody of saphic pleasure and hiding in the dining room to enjoy the quality of the parents' screams when they'd come home.

The mother he'd beat to death with the fire poker, before snapping the neck of the father, who had been far too ugly for Angelus to waste much time on. He laid the fire poker in the husband's hand and the wife's hand in her husband's pants, and then left them all there, covered in blood, and headed upstairs to shower. He slipped his blood-stained shirt and leather pants back on, shoved his boots back on, and headed casually out into the sweet spring night, whistling to himself as he picked a white flower from the Sutter's yard. Perhaps he'd leave it outside Xander's window...

The thought had him frowning. Tonight he'd tried to see his beloved before going out hunting, only to feel the magical repulsion at the window – no weak holy water trick, this. No, he had been dis-invited from the home, and that could not be borne. When Xander was back where he belonged, punishment would have to be doled out for his boy's rebellious streak, and he would have to be brought to heel. But no matter; Xander would fall in line, and forgive him, and stare at him once more with those adoring eyes.

Sensing a familiar presence behind him as he turned off of Revello, Angelus turned to see Lucy slowly approaching him. The tall, statuesque vampiress was a rarity; Lucy had been turned when she was in her forties, and the blush of youth had left her face. Though she was beautiful, she looked older than many vampires simply because most vampires only turned the young.

"Master," she said softly, curtseying to him. Lucy had once been a lady of King James' court in England, until her lover had been accused of witchcraft and burnt at the stake. Lucy had found a vampire and used her lover's tricks to force the vampire into turning her, and Lucy had massacred half of the court and would have gone after the king himself had an angry mob not stopped her. She'd disappeared into the night and found her way to the Master's court. The incident at the time had be attributed to the ghost of an angry witch.

"Good hunting?" he asked her as she fell into step behind him.

"I turned those who would be turned," she answered, but there was a hesitancy in her voice. He waited as they walked, letting her get to whatever it was she wanted to say. "Master, I took a different route home, past one of the smaller bars, near the Fish Tank." He nodded, knowing what area she was talking about. "Since Willy's Alibi Bar is no more, small demon-friendly bars in Sunnydale have, of course, flourished, though this one was new. There were many demons within, some I did not recognize. They do not like your assumed mastery, and plan to challenge it soon."

"Good," Angelus said happily, grinning as his blood began to heat with the thrill of the hunt.

"Master?" Lucy asked, not understanding.

"The fools are all in one place, night after night. We need to add some demons to my court, anyway. I'll kill their leaders in battle and take them out as threats to me, add the useful ones to my court, and then, once I have trial by fire under my belt, there won't be a damned thing in Sunnydale that'll stand up to me – not even the Slayer." He grinned fiercely, feeling the moonlight swell down on him as if blessing his mission.

"Should I tell the others to be ready with your forces?" Lucy asked, drawing herself up.

"No. I'll handle this alone, tomorrow night," Angelus decided. "You can go now."

"Good day, master," Lucy said, curtseying properly again, before gliding off in the other direction, perhaps back toward the mansion. Angelus would let himself see Xander sleeping once more as he thought of his new campaign. No, no one would ever dare stand against him again. And no one – _no one_ – would ever take his boy away from him again.

**888**

Buffy surveyed the remains of Willy's Alibi Bar with no small sense of satisfaction. The joint that had once been hopping with the scum of the underworld telling the bartender all of their dirty little secrets while they gulped down whatever noxious drink they wanted was now nothing more than a burnt out hollow shell of what it had been. It had been more joyful than she wanted to admit to torch the place and all its inhabitants. Now, she slowly stepped under the yellow "condemned" tape and gingerly stepped over the rubble that was left of the door.

The bar was in even worse shape than she remembered. Half of the walls were crumbling and blackened, the bar was half demolished, the pool tables split in half. There were two small fires made of crumbled bits of wood and bar stools, with a few demons around them – a small green mischief demon and a few vampires, and two or three that she didn't recognize. But the fact that she hadn't recognized them most likely meant that they weren't that important. Still, she kept her hood up. It wouldn't be such a great thing for all of these people to see the Slayer strutting through the place she'd bombed.

She found Spike in the back corner, where one of the booths was still undamaged. He was drinking a bottle of scotch, with about half a pack of cigarettes stubbed out next to him. He didn't even glance up when she slid into the seat across from him. Buffy slowly slid a stake out of the sheath in the side of her coat and held it tightly, just in case, and slid her hood off.

"What the bloody hell do you want—oh, it's you," Spike said, regarding her with his icy blue eyes. Buffy nodded lackadaisically. "What brings a bint of yer stature staggering round down in this rathole?"

"I was looking for you," Buffy admitted, leaning back. Spike regarded her quizzically through half-lidded eyes, a look she absolutely refused to admit was somewhat attractive, in a very Spike sort of way. "I thought that we could have a bit of a talk."

"We don't chat, Slayer," Spike snorted. He took a swig of whiskey and leaned back. "If you're here, it means that you want something. And I'm too drunk right now to fight you. So what do you want?"

"I want to talk," Buffy repeated. "About Angelus." Spike's eyes narrowed. "And Drusilla."

"What do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward. Her fingers tightened over the stake, but she kept still.

"I think that you know exactly what I mean," she whispered, holding his threatening stare with one of her own. "I think that you don't want Angelus in town any more than I do." To her surprise, Spike broke the stare first, leaning back in his seat to laugh a hollow chuckle, his voice sounding raspy.

"Do y'know, you've got more balls n' most Slayers I've ever seen, includin' the one's I've done in?" he observed. "Here you are in this place, askin' me to stab me Sire in the back, and you're not even flinching." He clapped a few times and took another swig of his drink. "I like that."

"And _you're_ not really what I was expecting," Buffy said, leaning back, letting her death-grip on Mr. Pointy relax slightly. "William the Bloody sitting here drinking and moping about his life instead of doing something about it."

"And just what would you propose I do about it? Kill the old bastard and take Dru away from all of this?" Spike indicated the burnt-out husk of Willy's around them, giggling slightly. "First off, I'd never win against Angelus on me own, as you've learned by now. Second, Dru'd kill me, or she'd leave me anyway. And third...what was the third?" He shrugged and took another drink. "Of course, _you're_ one to talk – _I'm_ the one he's abandoned, and here _you_ are trying to get me to...fuck _you_." Spike laughed again and took another drink.

"Look, maybe you haven't quite gotten the memo, but either me or him are gonna be dead by the end of all this, and I'd rather it be him," Buffy noted, confused. Spike regarded her with his electric blue eyes that were almost pitying.

"You really don't get it, do you? Why you're all still alive?"

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, feeling somewhat uneasy at the tone of Spike's voice.

"You see, Angelus is big on family. Never quite got over killing his, I suppose. And he's right round the fuckin' _twist_ 'bout your droopy-boy. You think that he's just going to kill you all?" Spike snorted. "He _loves_ you guys! Don't you understand? Willow, his pet witch, and you, his pet Slayer, and the Watcher in his dungeons for fun with the teacher. The cheerleader'll be a vampire by the end of the month, and Xander back in his bed – oh, he wants to keep the lot of you, and me and Dru, and maybe find a way to bring Darla back. He's already got all of Sunnydale right under his thumb, and once he gets his family back together...mmm."

Buffy was staring at him in horror as he continued, lighting up his next cigarette. "You see, most vampires, we're just talk – I mean, we _kill_ people, of course. But most of us, we're not going to cause the next apocalypse, or summon a demon, or try to use magic, or end the world. But then comes someone like Angelus, who can make just about anyone fall in love with him, I reckon, who has a real vision and a passion for destruction. Throw your boy and the witch and maybe a vamped _you_ on top of all of that, and he'll have the world in his fist by the end of the year, and here I'll be, drinkin' my way through with this lot."

"What do you mean, he's already got all of Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, her horror mounting.

"What d'you _think_ he's been doing all this time he's not fighting you? Where do you think all the deaths are vanishing to, or why there aren't any new minions around for you to fight?" Spike asked her disparagingly, taking another draw on his cigarette and blowing the smoke in her face.

"He's building an army, isn't he?" Buffy whispered.

"Already ten steps ahead of _that_, luv," Spike noted. "Now that you've lost your lunch, you still gonna sit there or you gonna run to that Watcher of yours?"

"Well, if he's so keen on taking over the world, why don't you help him?" Buffy asked challengingly, grasping at straws to keep herself from reeling. Spike sighed and slumped in his seat, and Buffy was shocked to feel something almost like pity niggling at her insides at the utter defeat in the motion.

"You've got no idea what...Angelus...look, you remember that first night he came back?" Spike asked her, staring at her with something like sobriety in his gaze. Buffy nodded tightly, trying as hard as she could to fight back the memories of that horrifying night and the nightmares it brought with it. "Picture feeling that, a hundred times worse, for a hundred years. That's what Angelus is to me. I love him more than any man, and I hate him more than any thing on this earth. And now he's back like nothing's changed, like _I'm_ the bad Childe who didn't fall back in line, taking Dru from me..."

"So take it all back," Buffy said softly. She stood up and pulled her hood back up over her head. "Stop drinking and _do_ something about it. You know where to find me." She didn't look back as she left the bar, but she had a feeling that Spike was going to sit there for a very, very long time.

**888**

Drusilla had gone out hunting that night, walking through the parks of Sunnydale, looking for children to call to her. There had been none, and she despaired that she would not be able to give the darkness she held at her breast to any of the young ones. It festered like a wound, and she scratched at her chest listlessly, drawing blood. She smeared the beads of dark red on her gown, and despaired that the fabric was so dark that she could not see herself lost in it. Drusilla ripped the gown from herself, standing naked amongst the trees beneath the waxing moon.

There was a fascination and an enchantment in degrading herself to the most elemental of beasts, a dark whisper in her mind that her Angelus and Spike could never hear, or would not hear. Some nights, Drusilla would leave all of her clothes behind and vanish into the woods, digging herself a grave and lying in it, sleeping through the daytime in the earth and hearing the songs the worms sang to each other as they descended on her helpless body. On nights she did not want to be alone, she would sleep in the graves of dead humans, drawing their rotting corpse arms over herself like a lover's embrace, and sleep secure.

Tonight, however, she turned away from the woods and continued toward town, intent on finding her little Spike. So self-important he was after having to take care of her for so long, and now that she no longer needed him he felt so disgustingly betrayed. Pity and hatred welled within her. Her Spike had once been a weapon she kept with her, torturing the world that had been so cruel to him, but she had done it wrong, of course she had, and he was so very..._human_. The lovemaking made her shiver, but it was nothing like what she found in the arms of her dark father, her Angel, her Angelus. Could she ever make Spike understand the beauty of utter pain, degradation, humiliation?

As she turned toward the outer crescent of Sunnydale, toward the harbor, however, she caught a smell of briny water, and the salt of the eternal ocean, and felt a dizzying rush of vertigo as her entire world spun in the cruel hands of a vision, and then she collapsed naked in the street.

_Drusilla stands at the crest of a beach, the moonlight dancing over the waves, the winds riling the water into a foamy storm, her hair blowing back from her face. She is dressed in the white of the virgin, though blood drenches the bottom of her dress, and she stands still as the forces of the earth move around her. This is a dark night, a cursed night, and she moans in pleasure while all the powers of Hell itself seem to gather around her, the feeling practically orgasmic against her sensitive skin. Her nipples stiffen._

_Behind her lies Sunnydale, her home, or something like it, and all those that she loves sleeping, unaware of the power she feels as she exultantly lifts her hands above her head and lets her hair loose from her head, letting the long tresses fly toward the wood like dark bats, leaving her bald and cold, exposed before the dark shadow gods rising around her. She steps toward the ocean, and she brings her wrists to her mouth, one by one, letting her fangs tear into her skin to join with the dark ones in a bloody communion of orgiastic ecstasy._

_She giggles madly as the world explodes around her, the four elements firing into life around her, calling her to dance as the earth heaves beneath her feet, to fly as the air explodes in the power of a hurricane around her, to sigh in lust as the woods burst into flames, mirroring the fires in her groin as her fluids begin to flow, to swim as the ocean explodes in a massive tidal wave, sweeping away all in its path as it relentlessly floods the town of Sunnydale and killing all of the inhabitants, though Drusilla continues to dance in the torrent. She feels the innocent souls of children drowning in darkness and sighs in pleasure as she collects them for her enjoyment._

_But the dark spirits of the earth have not had their final say, combining together in a wretched whirlpool to suck all those still alive into the darkness of the water, and Drusilla sees the Slayers, both of them, and her Spike, and her dark father, and the Watcher, the witches and the werewolf and the strong one, all drawn toward the darkness, unable to escape, and stopping short as the boy stands alone on the beach, finally pulling out a blade and killing himself to stop his friends from dying, releasing them from the dark spell. His body drifts out to sea as all those on shore mourn his loss, and Drusilla curiously follows him toward the whirlpool, but the boy has vanished. At the bottom of an impenetrably long, dark well, there is a flame._

_Drusilla watches in ecstatic terror as a giant, fiery bird of prey explodes from the depths, turning its raptor eyes upon the world as its wings begin to burn reality around her until there is nothing left...nothing but ashes..._

"What the hell?" a rough tough man asked as he leaned over her. Drusilla woke up, shivering rapturously at the memory of the fire's pain, the claws of the phoenix tearing at her mind, at her demon...she smiled lustily at the sensation's phantom memories over her veins. "Well, if that's what you wanted, babe," the ugly man said, smelling like lust as he reached for his pants, and Drusilla remembered that she was naked, and that she was beautiful the way her daddy thought she was beautiful.

"Hell," she repeated ecstatically, and then she sprang up and unleashed her fangs upon the man's throat, draining the fountain of blood that erupted there, cracking his neck as she widened the wound, and dropping his useless dead body where it lay. She needed to return home and tell Miss Edith of her adventures this night, or she might forget, and to forget would be to die.

Licking the blood from her lips with a brilliantly dark smile upon her face, Drusilla danced toward home, all thoughts of Spike completely forgotten.

**888**

The very thought of Spike's words about Angelus' desire for a 'family' with all of them was enough to make Buffy want to vomit, but from everything she and Giles had read researching the vampire's activities, it made the perfect sort of sense that was horrifying. Driving it firmly from her mind, Buffy tried her hardest to think of something else, but all that was coming up was Spike, and the way his wonderfully blue eyes held hers fearlessly, and how the hollows of his cheeks gave him a shadowed, smoky sort of sexiness...

_Gah!_ she thought, jerking back from herself. _Spike is _not_ sexy! Badness! Bad Buffy!_ "Where the hell is a vampire when you _need_ one?" the Slayer asked angrily, trying to stomp the thoughts from her mind. Just then, she heard a scream in the distance and smiled darkly. "Ha, ha," she muttered, and drew her stake out from its sheath as she sprinted in the direction of the screams.

At the fringes of a cemetery a vampire was stalking toward a young woman, who was trying to ward him off with her backpack. Rolling her eyes, Buffy ran toward them and launched herself in the air, letting her foot come down on the back of the leech's head with a satisfying _crack_. The vampire jerked forward, howling in pain, and the woman darted off in the other direction, still screaming, but alive. Buffy turned her attention back to the vampire in front of her.

It straightened itself and faced her without fear, falling into a fighting crouch. His arms weren't overly muscled, but demonic strength was a different sort of thing, so Buffy didn't let that fool her. Instead, she raised the stake defensively to distract him from her other hand moving slowly toward her belt. The vampire smirked as it recognized her, which wasn't a great sign. "You don't matter anymore, Slayer. Soon our master will claim this land, and you, as his own, and Hell will reign in this town!"

"Do you have any idea how many vampires _before_ Angelus have said that and then met the pointy end of this?" Buffy snarked, brandishing the stake. "Sorry if I'm not quaking in my new shoes, but you're gonna have to do a lot better than that if you want to scare me off of killing you tonight, buddy."

"My death does not matter," the vampire sneered. "Where you kill me, there will be dozens more to take my place. And if I return to my master from an unsuccessful hunt, he will kill me anyway."

"Then why follow him?" she asked, her questing fingertips finding what she was looking for.

"Because he is the greatest of all vampires," the leech said reverently. "And I will eliminate you for him!" Without warning, the vampire's center of gravity shifted and he leapt toward her, fangs bared and claws outstretched. Buffy was more than ready for him, however, with the small vial of holy water she'd found, and threw it toward him, shattering the glass on his face and dousing his countenance with the blessed liquid, making him drop like a stone, screaming as he clawed at his ruined features and blinded eyes.

"Tell me what I want to know and I'll make it all stop," Buffy promised, putting one stake over his heart. "Lie to me and we're going to draw this out." Her other stake she unsheathed and held point-down over his crotch threateningly. "How many vampires does Angelus have on his side?"

"At least fifty! More after tonight!" the vampire howled, cringing away from her.

"Anything else?" Buffy asked, digging her stake into his pants a little further.

"Some demons, I don't know! He's recruited some witches too! After tonight he'll have control of the entire Hellmouth! He's killed the other competition! That's all I know, I swear!" The vampire was still clawing at his eyes, which were no doubt boiled away into nothing by now. Buffy wanted to hold her breath from the scent, but she forced herself to continue.

"Are you lying to me?" she asked sweetly, tightening her grip on the stakes.

"NO! I SWEAR!" the vampire howled.

"Good," she said softly, and drove her stake into his heart with a meaty crunch, drawing it out and watching his face freeze in a rictus of shocked pain before he exploded in a cloud of ashy vampire dust. Buffy turned and walked quietly out of the cemetery. She wasn't going to be seeing any new vampires tonight, and probably not for a few nights now that she knew what Angelus was planning. An entire army. Angelus was raising an entire army of vampires to take over her town, and demons and witches as well. Buffy wanted to break into sobs as the weight of what was happening settled on her shoulders.

Needing to kill Angelus at all was bad enough, and hard enough. But this? There was no way that she could deal with this! The entire Hellmouth was bowing to his boots by now, and that was more demons, vampires, witches and other nasties than she could even care to think of. Vampires were the only ones who needed to wait on invitations; nothing and nowhere was going to be safe from Angelus' forces after tonight. The only thing left for her was to kill Angelus himself and hope that that would disperse his forces, but could she even do it? She had no doubts left that she could make herself drive the stake in, but would she be able to defeat Angelus in battle? And then deal with the aftermath...

When Buffy turned toward Revello, she sighed. Going home no longer felt safe, even though she knew that Angelus couldn't get into her house anymore, and Buffy mourned that loss more than anything. Spike was right – Angelus was cunning and he had a vision. Angel himself had been a formidable opponent, and add to that Angelus' raw cruelty and she knew without a doubt that if he wasn't stopped soon he wouldn't stop with the Hellmouth. He'd move for the rest of it, for the world, unless _she_ stopped it.

Her mind registered what was wrong before anything else, and she turned toward the Sutter's house, unconsciously drawing her last stake back from her sheath as she headed toward the door that was hanging wide open. The house was dark, though, and she knew that the Sutters wouldn't have gone to sleep with the door open...Buffy stepped over the threshold into the house and froze, nearly whimpering in horror, as the scent of blood hit her. _God, no_, she thought. _Not this..._

She saw the bodies by the light of the moon, saw the twisted and disgustingly perverted ways in which Angelus had posed them for her, a gift and a warning all at once, and she had to fight down the rising vomit in her stomach. The thought of Jennifer Sutter not playing outside on the porch swing anymore when Buffy walked home from school in the afternoon was painful, and Buffy had to pause as she leaned against the wall for strength.

Bile rose once more as she heard the snarl behind her, and Buffy turned to see Jennifer and her babysitter sitting slowly up, their once-pretty faces twisted into ugliness by their newly vampiric features. Fighting back a tide of horror, Buffy drove the stake into the babysitter's heart, and she exploded into dust. The little girl, however...Buffy closed her eyes and stabbed before the disoriented newborn could fight back, and then turned and ran from the house, leaving her stake behind, and leapt up to her bedroom window and threw herself in, vomiting violently in her trash can before collapsing on her bed in helpless sobs.

**888**

"What the what, Giles?" Xander asked as Giles checked the non-ringing telephone once more. They were eating breakfast, and Xander was still riding a bit of a magic-induced buzz from yesterday, determined to ignore the moment of awkwardness that had ensued from the entire thing. In fact, since the Claim had had that strange flare yesterday, Xander hadn't dreamed of Angelus at all, or thought about him the entire night, which was a first since he'd left the factory.

"Oh, nothing," Giles assured him, turning back to his newspaper with a frown.

"Just a thought, but, poker? Not your game," Xander commented as he spooned himself more Raisin Bran. "Just give. My delicate mind can handle it."

"I wasn't implying—" Giles began huffily, but he stopped when he realized that Xander was mocking him. "Buffy still has not checked in from last night, and I was worried."

"You mean from Spikespotting? Yikes," Xander said, not duly worried. "I'm sure she's fine, Giles. She's Buffy. She could take Spike in a fight any day."

"I'm sure you're right," Giles nodded, but he was circling things in the newspaper with his pen, which was never a good sign. Xander decided to cut his losses for the day.

"Do you need any help looking up stuff today?" he asked as he finished off his orange juice. Giles shook his head, still not looking up from the newspaper. "Okay, then. I think I'll go hang with the girls today." Another nod. "Then I might play chicken in traffic," Xander tried. When Giles still didn't react, Xander shrugged and took care of his dishes before he went to get dressed. On his way out the door, Giles called out, "Do try to avoid the larger cars, Xander."

Xander shot him a droll stare and shut the door behind him with a snap.

**8**

Giles was more worried than he'd let on, and the newspaper was only adding to his growing sense of unease. The Hellmouth had been far too quiet for his peace of mind these last weeks, and Buffy's lack of checking in after such an important mission didn't bode well. This was the very worst part of being a Watcher – the constant waiting, worrying, hoping, fearing, praying as his Slayer went into battle without him. Giles imagined it was somewhat like being a parent of a police officer or a soldier, only worse. And the paper was signifying very bad things indeed.

There was story after story of children not returning home, each individual excelling in a particular skill. Electronics stores in the area were going haywire, indicating an upsurge in either dark energy or magic or both, or perhaps the presence of a chaos demon. Accidents in the hospital and dark births such as children with their eyes turned inwards only added up to indicate that another apocalypse was rising in Sunnydale, and Giles had no doubt that the connection between Angelus and Xander was somehow at the center of it all.

The only question remaining was identifying the threat – Angelus himself, or something far worse? Fighting back the urge to run outside and catch Xander before he could finish leaving, Giles got up to pour himself some tea and started to brew some dark coffee alongside it. Whether in the library or with his books here, he was in for a long day today, and he knew that in either place he'd be sitting next to the phone lest Buffy should call.

He eyed the clock with increasing apprehension as he began browsing through the books he had bookmarked for their content involving either Angelus, the Elementals, or Claiming rituals of vampires. The shriek of the kettle sounded like death in his ears.

**888**

Mitch was waiting for Willow by the copse of trees on the edge of Weatherly Park when she got there, the bag of supplies he'd asked her to bring swinging by her side. She was nervous, though she was trying hard to hide it. The last time she'd seen this guy, he'd been adding his power to hers to fix the mess that she'd created and nearly killed herself with, which wasn't exactly the impression she'd been hoping to make on the teacher from Avalon. Well, today she'd show him that she was a good student. Her self-affirmation ringing in her ears, Willow strode to him in a display of far more confidence than she felt.

He was dressed as casually as she was, in a pair of ripped-up jeans and an old white T-shirt, and she felt better about the peasant blouse and hippie skirt she'd found at Goodwill. She grinned involuntarily when she remembered Cordelia's expression when she'd heard where Willow had gotten her new outfit, and Mitch smiled back at her.

"Willow, hey," he said calmly, stepping forward to meet her. Willow was struck by how ridiculously cute he was, and how young, and suddenly Buffy's suspicions from the other day weren't quite as far-fetched as they'd seemed in the library.

"Hi," she said. They shook hands and he gestured for her to pull up a patch of grass. They sat down in the traditional sitting position of meditation, and she put her bag down next to him.

"So, my name's Mitch – you probably caught that by now. I'm supposed to be taking you on the next step of training to be a witch, but you looked like you were pretty far along the last time I met you." He gave her a look that wasn't quite condemning, but she still blushed. "It's all good – we all lose control sometimes. Including the teachers, like the time our horticulture teacher almost strangled herself in a weeping willow." She smiled weakly. "I'm going to start by asking you what you already know. I know that Jenny Calendar's started you off on all of this."

"Well, I was interested because I was using her computer for stuff and I was browsing through all of her pagan websites and when she talked to me about it she told me I was a real natural, and it was just...simple, you know, some of the stuff that she was teaching me, so I started doing it and reading more and now here I am and you are, well, here, too," she finished lamely, pausing to draw breath. He blinked, and she tried to calm herself down. "I mean, I know how to do spells, and blessings, and draw up power from the earth and things like that. The major stuff I still need help on. Ms. Calendar says that I'm fine on most spells as long as I have a secondary to guide me."

"Well, I can definitely sense a bit of raw power rolling off of you," Mitch said, nodding. "I heard that you cast the Dance of Souls, which most witches under the level the Lady of the Lake is at can't do. But the problem that I'm hearing is that you haven't had anyone knock you down a peg or three. That stunt you pulled in the football field was just stupid." She gaped at him, and he shrugged. "I'm not here to sugarcoat things. We're witches, Willow, which means that we're using forces strong enough to alter reality as we know it. Arrogance while using that kind of power is the worst kind of thing, because then you start to use magic for everything, to change things or to change people – did you know that there's such a condition as magic addiction?"

"No," she whispered, her cheeks flaming, not meeting his eyes.

"There are people – young people, powerful ones, just like you – who stumbled onto this stuff and thought that they could just blast away on their own, or maybe find a teacher who's willing to give them the dark stuff for a price, and suddenly they can't go a day without magic or they go into withdrawal," he continued mercilessly. "I'm not trying to tell you this to make you feel like shit, or ashamed. I'm telling you this because I know that you're smart, and people keep telling me that you're a good person, and you need to know that there are consequences to every action. You've got some incredible power inside of you; even _I_ can sense that. But I'm telling you right now that I could mop the floor with you in five minutes, which is exactly what I'm about to do, so get ready."

"What?" Willow gasped, before he lashed out at her in a dazzling burst of light and she was suddenly flung backward to land humiliatingly hard on her backside. He stood casually up and stretched, almost like he was showing off his muscles, and Willow was abruptly furious. How dare this cocky son of a bitch _judge_ her like she was a naughty five year old and then _attack_ her and... "OH!" she gasped, and fought back without a second thought, reaching out and causing the very trees to bend to her and move their branches toward him threateningly.

It was like a painfully pleasurable feeling, how easily the magic came to her, and she enjoyed watching Mitch's face as he shuddered at the force of her magic. Let him be impressed, then, she thought smugly, before she stumbled to her knees and started howling in pain as Mitch used her hubris exactly the way he had already told her he was going to in order to slip humiliatingly easily into her defenses and turn her power back on her, using her own magic to induce the illusion of pain throughout her entire bloodstream.

Humiliated, shocked, and humbled, Willow did what she knew Mitch wanted and surrendered her instinctive grip on her powers, letting him erase the effects of the magic around them and returning her from the magic-induced high she'd been riding mere seconds ago. The entire process had taken less than five minutes, exactly as Mitch had told her, and that was as bad as everything else was.

She was surprised when Mitch handed her a handkerchief he'd taken out of a pocket. The cloth was suffused with herbs designed to calm her down, and she wiped her tears and snot away gratefully. "Do you know why I did that?" Mitch asked her seriously, sitting down across from her again.

"Because I needed to be knocked down a few pegs?" Willow guessed when she'd collected herself again.

"Right," Mitch confirmed. "You've got a ton of power, Willow – you've been blessed with a gift. But you've got to learn how to honor that gift instead of just _using_ it to suit you. You've been reckless and its been praised. Now, I'm not saying that you haven't done some really good things. But it's time to learn control. And that's what we're going to be working on the rest of today, okay?"

She nodded firmly, and wiped the last of her tears away. Willow didn't like Mitch all that much, nor did she like his methods, but she was determined to show him that she had heard him and that she was going to be the best student he'd ever had. And she was never, _ever_ going to let her magic do that to her again, or put her in that humiliating position, not _ever_.

**888**

Angelus surveyed the cavernous basement of the mansion with genuine pleasure. It was absolutely filled to the brim with dead bodies, each of them to his specifications: young, attractive, smart, and fighters to the end. His army of vampires was close to rising, and he had an idea of what their first blood meal would be. Nodding his satisfaction to Lucy, he turned and led her out of the basement, closing the door on the changing bodies and locking it firmly. He gave the key to Lucy and allowed her to leave his presence, secure in the knowledge that she'd let no one in besides herself.

In the mansion proper, those minions that had already risen were renovating the attic to hold the minions' quarters, while Spike and Drusilla already had a room appointed for them, and he himself of course had the master suite. The other guest rooms and living rooms were also being renovated for living quarters, and weapons' rooms, and the library was being emptied of books in preparation for being refilled with the occult tomes and references Angelus would need to complete his control over the Hellmouth itself. He imagined the look on his Xander's face when he would return to a real home, and a real bedroom, and the rest of their family in line in the library, waiting for them...

"Master," Allen said respectfully, intruding on his reverie. "The sun has gone down."

"Is everything ready?" Angelus asked. Of course he knew the sun was down; he'd lived more than two hundred years, which one would think was more than long enough to learn the solar calendar. At Allen's nod, he turned and left without a backward glance. Thinking better of it, he turned around and asked, "Are Spike or Drusilla home yet?" Allen shook his head, and Angelus frowned as he nodded to his underling and headed to his bedroom to get ready for tonight's battle. Neither of his beautiful Childers had returned to the mansion during the daytime hours. Spike, he had no doubt, was still at the burned-out wreck of Willy's, though why he'd choose to hole up there during the day was something Angelus doubted he'd ever understand. He should never have allowed Dru to attempt a turning on her own.

While he knew that both of his Childers were more than capable of taking care of themselves, even against the Slayer – a thought that filled him with no uncertain amount of pride – he bristled at the disrespect to his house and his court, not to mention to he himself. They would both need to be punished and taught their lessons, Spike more than most. It was unnatural for the brash young vampire to be skulking around like a kicked puppy merely because his fickle Sire was no longer devoted to his every word.

He put the thoughts out of his head and dressed in leather and a heavy shirt, strapping a sword to his hip and a dagger in each boot. He put a stake in a sheath along his sleeve, just in case, and then headed out into the darkening gloam, seeking out the scent of the demon clan he'd encountered the night before. As per his instructions, his underlings were all staying well away from him. This was the final battle he needed to fight for himself before declaring himself king, and he would fight it alone, and win. He knew no other way.

The scent of demons – full-blooded demons – was a particular scent; indeed, it was almost like a feeling rather than a scent, a primal sort of aura that called to Angelus like a song on the night, and he followed it easily enough. The den that he was tracking was sloppy if he could trail them this easily...or they were cocky, or perhaps both. He had been consolidating major power in the area lately, and there were bound to be at least a few free elements left who thought they could simply oppose him. Angelus wasn't worried. He felt confident and strong, glutted on blood and retraining himself back to his remembered fighting strength and prowess. Lucy and Ella were making contact with a small coven of witches meeting on the outskirts of town, and once he had them on his side, his court would never be taken by magic again. He was so close to his goal that he could practically taste it.

Breathing in the warm night air, Angelus let his feet take him toward downtown Sunnydale, and ended up in a tiny bar set steps down from the street. The alley the bar was in looked just like every other alley in Sunnydale, only perhaps a little more deserted. Angelus checked around, making sure that he was alone, and then smashed the door in with his foot as he strode confidently into the dimly lit room, his true face rippling into being and his preternaturally enhanced sight bringing the room and its inhabitants into sharp relief.

There were six demons and three vampires in the room. Two of the vampires looked old enough to have evolved, but the third looked young and stupid as a minion still. There were six demons ringing the room – two large Ch'thin demons, a small mischief demon whose face was covered in battle scars, a swarthy goblin, a large Fellsor demon, and an enormous Chaos demon in the back corner. Angelus felt like crowing in triumph. Instead, he kept his face schooled in an impassive mask and stepped calmly inside, until he was roughly in the middle of the room, and stood there.

"You've got balls, I'll give ya that," the goblin said coldly. It was a nasty thing, small and hunched and covered in spikes that were a darker shade of its poisonous green skin. It grinned at him with yellowed, cracked, viciously sharp teeth. "But you _really_ shouldn'ta come in here and busted our door like that."

"You three are disgusting," Angelus said coldly, ignoring the goblin and turning instead to the three vampires. "I offered you a chance to join my court and here you stand in the company of filth who would only treat you as lackeys instead of kings."

"Maybe I'm a rebel," said the minion vampire with a vicious sneer.

"Maybe you should be dead," Angelus sighed, and tossed the hellfire potion he'd slipped up his sleeve in that direction, watching in satisfaction as all three of the rogue vampires died in an instant, painful immolation, the sound of their brief screams echoing in the now tense room as Angelus turned to face the other demons, who were now watching him far more warily than before. He took a moment to let his actions sink in, and then he addressed them gravely: "This Hellmouth is mine. And it's going to stay that way. I'm giving you all a chance to join me as we turn our sights away from this patch of land and onto the rest of this world. But if you refuse me, I'll slaughter you now and move on with my own forces."

"You just made one big mistake, you stupid fucking bloodsucking little leech," said the Fellsor demon. It was a huge, hulking thing with long tubes for hair that dripped poisonous fluid, dark green eyes and a tiny mouth. It killed by poisoning its victims and then attaching its mouth to the back of their necks and sucking their life-force out. Fellsor demons were big, nasty, and strong, and Angelus knew that their size didn't mean they were slow or stupid. "I think I've put up with your little power grab long enough. It's time to put you back in your place where half-human scum like you belong!"

Angelus sneered at him in disgust before drawing one of his daggers and swinging around in a viciously fast circular revolution, beheading the goblin that had tried to sneak behind him and turning around to hurl the blade at the small mischief demon, landing the weapon with a meaty _thunk_ in between the creature's eyes. Brilliant green blood sprayed behind him as the goblin's body hit the floor. The mischief demon was so small that his body barely sounded out as it hit the ground. Angelus drew out his other dagger and spun it calmly, smiling at the scent of blood as he surveyed his enemies.

The Fellsor demon sputtered in rage as he turned to the two Ch'thin demons and screamed in a high-pitched howl, "Kill him!" The other large demons almost stumbled over each other as they turned toward him, and Angelus smirked. Ch'thin demons were large and fairly stupid pig-like creatures with long, sharp tusks who spoke in grunts. They had massive strength but mainly couldn't use it for anything without a higher demon to command them.

"Look at the two of you," Angelus crooned softly as they stepped toward him. He sidestepped, giving himself more room in between the bar tables. "Such big boys working for something so nasty and smelly. How much does he give you for working for him? Does he let you kiss him?" The Ch'thins snarled in rage as they stepped toward him, their small, piggy eyes looking confused. "What if you worked for someone who valued you? Who paid you and let you loose on a town completely under his control?" The demons stopped, and Angelus smiled in a friendly way as he stepped toward them. "What if you worked for me, and I never gave you an order without giving you a reward?"

"He's a fucking _vampire_! He's filth, you ungrateful swine! What could he possibly give you that I couldn't, that I _don't_?! Kill him, and kill him now!" Angelus loved the desperate upswing in the Fellsor's voice. The scent of fear was starting to build in the air. The Chaos demon was completely still, watching the goings-on, and Angelus slung his arms companionably around the Ch'thins' shoulders.

"Boys, why don't you kick back and take a seat? This won't take long," he said in their ears, and the two of them grunted and sat down on the nearest chairs, watching the challenge. All Angelus had to do now was win, and he had no doubts that he would. He tossed his dagger up in the air, catching it on the downfall, and then tossed it handle-first toward the Fellsor, who caught it on reflex. "Let's get it done, shall we?" Angelus suggested, shrugging off his jacket and stretching calmly, making his stomach vulnerable to attack in a show of complete disrespect for the other demon.

"I'm going to take you out," the Fellsor snarled, enraged. "I'm going to put you in your place and rape that pretty body of yours, before I destroy every vampire in this town!"

"Sorry, baby," Angelus said, sounding regretful. "I'm already taken. I mean, if you're into sloppy seconds..." When the Ch'thins laughed stupidly behind him, the Fellsor screamed in rage and hurled forward in a lightning-fast strike, which Angelus dodged, using his jacket like a shield to block the droplets of poison raining from the thing's head. He slammed his foot into the demon's stomach as hard as he could, then slammed his hand down into a tender spot in its spine. The Fellsor dropped to the ground and spun around, sweeping Angelus' legs out from under him and making the vampire drop to the ground like a stone. The demon pummeled him in the side and swung the dagger, which Angelus rolled away from, hissing in pain as it caught his arm, drawing blood.

They both swung to their feet and circled each other warily. Angelus drew his sword from its sheath, remembering with pleasure all of the fencing lessons that Darla had given him, often drawing each others' blood until they tore their clothes off and fucked in a wild, blood-soaked frenzy on the fighting floor. Still, he stood in the en garde position, waiting. When his opponent's weight shifted to his left, Angelus swung to the right and blocked the Fellsor's swift jab. They both feinted for a few moments, before the Fellsor switched the dagger to his other hand and came at Angelus with a blindingly fast series of slashes that Angelus furiously warded off, searching for his opening.

When it finally came, he spun his sword in a complicated circle and sliced the Fellsor's left hand off, the hand and the dagger falling to the floor as orange blood sprayed out, the Fellsor screaming in pain. Angelus stepped forward, punching the demon in the forehead hard, making it rear back in pain. He slammed the pommel of his sword into its stomach, making it double over, and then brought the flat of the blade in a humiliating spank on the thing's ass, and it fell to the floor with a pained groan. "Besides, babe," he said in a deep, huskily sensual drawl, "you're really not my type." He lifted the sword high and cut the Fellsor's head off with a satisfyingly wet squelch, cutting off the thing's high-pitched keen of pain and despair.

He took an unneeded breath of deep satisfaction as he dropped the sword, which was covered in disgusting blood that was no doubt eating away at the blade already. He turned to the Ch'thin demons, which were staring at him in awe and no doubt lust. No matter how disgusting they were, his vanity was satisfied and he preened slightly in front of them. "Would you two please take my coat and wrap the head up? I'll take you to our mansion and set you up to live, and we'll get some good poison out of this thing." They scrambled to their feet and rumbled to do his bidding. Angelus turned to the Chaos demon.

It was a huge, deeply disgusting thing with enormous antlers dripping slime, its swirling eyes constantly changing colors as it surveyed him. Angelus knelt down on one knee before it. No vampire, no matter how strong, could destroy a Chaos demon without allies and proper preparation. "I'd be honored if you would join me as well," he said respectfully.

"I will not," the demon said calmly. Angelus wanted to curse in frustration, but he wouldn't show it on his face. The demon smelled it, however, and chuckled. Its voice was deep and vibrating, grating. "You are, however, a most unusually impressive vampire. Your cruelty is unparalleled among your peers, and I've watched you with interest. This display..." The demon pulled an amulet on a cord out from a pocket on the cloak it was wearing. He held it out and Angelus took it. "Any sort of order, even the order of despair and domination that you would impose, is deeply boring to me. However, it would open up my freedom to meddle where I wish. Therefore, if you call for me with this amulet, I will aid you and your forces in battle one time. Then I will insist that you destroy the amulet and never use it again."

"I thank you, master," Angelus said formally.

"It amuses me that one such as you knows enough to swallow his pride when addressing me – though you are not nearly as interesting to watch as your dark daughter. She dances with me sometimes in the woods at night," the demon said, and Angelus looked up in surprise. Drusilla had known this demon and hadn't told him? "She is a true daughter of chaos, and would never betray that, even to you. You have already lost her, though she will never be free of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Angelus said quietly.

"Good. Now, go – and beware that you only call on me when you desperately need me," the Chaos demon warned. "There is betrayal in your future, which will cause chaos, which I can see. When it occurs, call on me, and you will succeed." The demon turned and walked toward the wall, which rippled and warped and creaked and groaned before finally collapsing under the demon's will, and then it was gone, leaving Angelus on his knee with a chill.

He shook it off, however, and turned toward his newest servants, whose eyes were still glowing as they watched him. He smiled at them reassuringly and led them to the mansion. The sun would be up soon, and all of his assembled forces were coming in from the hunt. There was one missing that he could see, which was fewer than even he had expected to lose when he began building this elitist force of vampires. Then, of course, Buffy would have found his present. The thought wasn't as full of pleasure as he'd once thought that it would be. He stepped forward and threw the head of his enemy down, watching with bitter satisfaction as every vampire in the great hall turned to stare at him.

"It's done," he said, gesturing toward the demon. "And I am the master of this Hellmouth. Anyone here who has issue with this needs to step forward now!" When no one said anything, he stepped forward and raised his fist in the beginning of the old ritual of Aurelius, the same rituals he had once mocked. Each of them stepped forward and bent their head forward, exposing their necks to their master's fangs. "Now, go each of you to sleep for the day." As the court dispersed, whispering amongst themselves in awe of him, he called out softly, "Ella, Lucy, and Spike – the three of you, stay."

Spike regarded him warily from his position by the fireplace, but he didn't move closer. A pang of melancholy struck Angelus as he looked at Spike's lean form, dressed in the hot night air as he was in nothing but a pair of jeans and a black muscle shirt. "Master?" Lucy questioned, kneeling in front of him. Ella, after a moment almost of deliberation, did the same. Angelus once more noted Ella's reluctance to acknowledge his ownership of him, but he filed it away for a night when he didn't feel so weary and worn.

"Lucy, what do you know of poisons?" he asked instead.

"Very much, master – in my human lifetime my mother simples," she said after a moment. He nodded and gestured toward the head of the Fellsor demon, still laying in grisly tribute to his triumph in the middle of the floor.

"Collect whatever you can from that thing and bottle it. Ella, you'll stay with your Sire and learn from her, and then put the head on a spike and leave it in the garden. When the Ch'thins are done rooting in there, give them a place to sleep, unless they want to sleep outside, and let them do whatever they want tonight; I'll deal with them tomorrow," he ordered.

"But, master, the sun will be up by the time I'm finished collecting the poison from the Fellsor," Lucy pointed out reasonably.

"Well, then, I guess Ella will have to borrow one of Drusilla's cloaks when she does her chores, won't she?" Angelus noted coldly. "You can both leave now. And clean up after that thing when you've finished."

"Yes, master," Ella said. There was almost a note of respect in her voice at his show of cruelty, and he knew that he'd have her in his bed by the end of the week. If she didn't break her haughtiness that way, he would simply begin torturing her. The thought didn't arouse him like it should have, and he walked toward one of the large couches near the fireplace and sat down, breathing out something like a sigh, a sign of weakness in front of Spike that could have proved dangerous; however, Angelus' mood didn't allow him to care.

"Light us a cigarette, Will," he said, indicating the cushion next to him. It had been so long since he'd used the intimate nickname between the two of them that Spike almost fumbled his fingers lighting the fag before he took a draw on it and, after a moment of hesitation, passed it over to his Sire. Angelus took a deep breath of smoke, exhaling it from his nose and appreciating the phantom echo of a burn that he felt in the aftermath. Though vampires' lungs were dead, forcing a breath of burning smoke inside could almost imitate the feel of a cigarette in life.

"Givin' out Dru's jobs n' her clothes, now," Spike observed after a moment of almost companionable silence. "What was that bit about with the cheeky bint?"

"She needs to be knocked down a peg," Angelus said flatly.

"Reckon she needs to be fucked?" Spike asked knowingly.

"Why? Are you offering?" Angelus asked, waggling his eyebrows in Spike's direction.

"Don't know that I would say no. Not like me n' Dru are much of anything," the younger vampire said bitterly. He glared angrily in Angelus' direction, and Angelus snorted viciously.

"Who are you kidding, boyo? If you really knew Dru the way you say you do you'd know she's been behind your back ever since you brought her here. That doesn't mean that she doesn't love you, idiot." Spike stared in shock; it was the first time in their entire lives that Angelus had ever acknowledged that Drusilla loved at all, or that she loved Spike. "She's outside today, in the earth, dreaming her mad dreams. There's something in the stars that she's seeing, but it'll be awhile before she tells one of us whatever the hell it is."

"I hate this place, do y'know that?" Spike said quietly, his voice raw, unshielded from Angelus' ears. "I like violence as much as the next demon, but you never know what's going to blow to hell or from hell any way you turn..."

"That's going to change, when I'm through with this town," Angelus promised. "And we'll have the family together again, all of us. And nothing – especially not some pathetic curse – is going to change that again, not ever."

"Do you miss the days when it was just the four of us?" Spike asked, following Angelus' footsteps on the path to faded memories. "When you and I would fight, and Dru and Darla'd watch and pick the winner. The four of us on the hunt, and afterward, when we'd all go to bed together, and fight again in the morning, cut our way through a country and get chased out..."

"Those were the days," Angelus acknowledged. "When you had something on your mind and you could walk into a small town and kill everyone in it without someone getting the police involved, and we didn't even have to bother hiding our kills. Do you know, I've been getting warnings that the Mayor of Sunnydale has ties to the underworld and he isn't happy with what I'm doing?"

"The bloody _Mayor_," Spike said, practically giggling, passing the cigarette back to Angelus. "Go figure."

"I hated you so much when Drusilla brought you to me, and I had to complete the turning for her," Angelus said after a moment, unexpectedly draping his arm over Spike's shoulders and hugging the smaller vampire to his chest. "I thought you were so weak. But you've survived so long, and gone so far. Two Slayers, and I couldn't even congratulate you properly..." Spike was very still, laying his head against Angelus' broad chest and listening to his Sire speak. "We'll be that close again, Spike. We can make everything the way it was, and stop people from leaving us."

"How do we do that?" Spike asked quietly, a shiver running up his spine that Angelus could feel.

"Love is forever," Angelus said just as softly, before he tipped Spike's chin up and leaned down, capturing Spike's soft lips in a kiss of equal softness, and Spike moaned helplessly and opened his mouth up, engaging Angelus' tongue with his. It was a slow, languid kiss, something that Spike would have thought he could only get after a long night when Angelus was too tired to be cruel, and neither of the vampires were inclined to make it stop. Instead, the kiss deepened, until Angelus had Spike pinned to the couch, his hands above his head, their erections straining through their pants, and he whispered, "Go upstairs and strip, then get in the bath."

Spike nodded and hurried up the stairs, his Sire following more slowly afterward.

**8**

Spike sighed as the hot water hit him, stepping into the bath with a shiver. He hadn't a clue what the bloody hell was going on, but the small, hated part of himself that still adored the very ground Angelus walked on was in heaven. He hadn't felt like this around his Sire in literally more than a century, and his cock was standing stiff and proud in the hot water. When Angelus stepped slowly into the bathroom, his steps a predator's prowling, Spike froze and couldn't take his eyes off of his Sire, the new Master of the Hellmouth and King of the Vampires.

Angelus met his gaze, his human face still in place and his brown eyes hotly lingering on Spike's erection, before he slowly slid his shirt off. Spike's cock twitched as his Sire revealed each inch of his chest, his wine-dark nipples stiffening under Spike's avid gaze. Angelus slowly stripped his belt off, kicking off his boots and toeing off his socks before calmly sliding his tight pants off of his body. Spike couldn't help moaning in want as Angelus straightened in all his naked glory, his enormous cock hard and ready. Angelus was so beautiful, so beyond real, resonating with ancient power and a kind of sadness that Spike didn't understand, before he stepped into the bath and sat down next to Spike, letting Spike draw close.

"Bathe me," he commanded, leaning back into Spike's chest. Spike lathered his hands up with soap and let his hands trail over every inch of Angelus' chest, lightly lapping at the healing dagger wound on Angelus' arm with his tongue to catch the sweetly burning blood of his Sire, his cock getting impossibly harder at the taste, so well-remembered. Angelus sighed as Spike cupped water in his hands and bathed the soap away, following the rivulets of water with his tongue and licking eagerly at Angelus' nipples. The other vampire stood up after a moment and turned. "Suck my cock," he whispered eagerly, and Spike leaned forward with a moan, licking at Angelus' shaft all over, suckling at the head and then drawing back to taste his balls. Angelus growled impatiently and gripped Spike's wet hair, forcing his mouth over his cock and moaning as he fucked Spike's mouth.

Moaning at the easy dominance, Spike daringly reached his left hand back and lightly fingered the silky skin of Angelus' hole, and Angelus pulled Spike back, leaning down and kissing him roughly, capturing the taste of himself and of his pre-cum from Spike's tongue. Spike reveled in the attention as Angelus easily lifted him out of the tub and they toweled each other dry, playfully shoving at each other and drawing blood with deceptively blunt-looking fingernails before lapping it up.

Spike soon found himself panting and hard as a rock as Angelus carried him to his bed. "Tell me, Spike, please, I need you to tell me," the vampire murmured in his ear, and Spike felt a bolt of pure shock rock through him as he understood what Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, was asking of him.

"I love you, Sire," he said into Angelus' ear, and felt his master shiver above him. Spike watched in fascination as Angelus fumbled at the bedside table and produced lubricant, a luxury Spike wasn't used to, and he couldn't help but moan as Angelus wetted his hand with the greasy stuff and rubbed it all along his erection, before he spread Spike's legs and thrust into him without another moment's preparation.

Spike howled in agony and ecstasy as Angelus' large cock opened him up, the lubricant providing just the right counterpoint of pleasure with the pain he felt at the stretching. His Sire was panting above him, an extreme reaction for a vampire, as he thrust into Spike with force, making Spike's toes curl as he wrapped his legs around Angelus' waist, lifting his backside up to allow Angelus a better angle as that impossibly huge cock prodded that point inside of him that made the entire world shut down in pleasure.

Angelus lifted him up, making Spike wrap his arms around him, too, drawing them as close together as they could be, settling on his haunches and making Spike effectively ride him as hard as he could, the both of them moaning as the bed creaked and rocked beneath them. Spike followed his instincts and cradled Angelus' head in his neck as his Sire almost desperately rutted into him, whimpering and moaning nonsense into Spike's ear as they fucked into oblivion.

Just when Spike felt himself nearing the edge, Angelus drew back with a howl and his face shifted to that of the demon as he struck at Spike's neck, and Spike hollered in ecstasy as he felt his Sire renewing their bond, drawing at his blood in a haze of painful ecstasy. He moaned and bit down hard on Angelus' shoulder, completing the bond and drinking of the blood he found there as he came hard, spattering their chests with his cum. Angelus growled viciously into Spike's neck as Spike's clenching ass milked the cum out of Angelus' cock, and Spike groaned as he felt and smelled his master's seed bathing his insides.

Neither of them were soft, however, and Angelus simply continued fucking him as hard as he could, moving them so that Spike was on his back and Angelus was above him, over him, holding him close as he thrust in hard enough to make his heavy balls slap loudly against Spike's skin, and Spike thrust down hard, seeking to have Angelus in him as deep as they could possibly get. Angelus moaned his approval and rolled over, letting Spike ride him as hard as he could, and before long they were both cumming again.

Spike collapsed against Angelus' chest, and his Sire cradled him as gently as if he were a newborn Childer once more. Angelus rolled them to their sides, still inside of Spike, though softening, and he lightly thrust against Spike once more before he passed into sleep. Spike felt Angelus relaxing behind him, and he sighed as he lowered his defenses and let himself be held in Angelus' strong arms, let their bodies stay as intimately connected as they were, as Angelus' sleeping head rested against his back.

"I love you, Sire," Spike murmured once more, knowing that once this mood had passed Angelus would never wish to here it again. It had almost felt like a goodbye, one last frenzied roll as they reassured themselves that they were still family when everything else was going to hell around them. Spike sighed with loss as Angelus' soft cock slipped from his aching hole, so he turned in Angelus' arms and buried his face in his Sire's chest, letting Angelus' sleeping body hold him all the tighter. He knew that Angelus would be gone when he woke up.

He wondered dully before he allowed sleep to overtake him if Angelus knew that this was goodbye, too, before Spike fulfilled his agreement with the Slayer and betrayed the one man in this entire world that he had ever loved, and the one man in this entire world that he hated more than any other.

**End of Part I of Chapter XXV**

**A/N:** Biddy-bum! You know, as much as I love Angelus (and I do), the most fun that I had while writing this chapter was writing in Drusilla's mindset – the crazy bitch! Don't worry, all you Dru fans out there; Drusilla has a _huge_ part to play in the next few chapters, and as we are approaching the end here, all the little strings are going to start coming together. I'm still mapping out the sequel to this story, but the way that it's going, I'm fairly certain that Dru's going to show up in there, too.

I'm really not usually the biggest Spike/Angel(us) fan, but this scene felt so natural to me that I'm considering writing a Spangel fic the next time I'm working in the _Angel_ 'verse; I just can't see them together during either of their runs on _Buffy_. Anyway, tell me what you think, no? The really hilarious thing about it all is that I actually wasn't planning this scene _at all_; it just happened. I like it!

This is, however, the end of this chunk of the chapter, so therefore we have:

**Coming Soon in _the Passion of Angels and Demons_**

_When the Chaos demon's predictions of betrayal come true, Angelus begins to spiral dangerously out of control in a desperate, final bid to take Xander back. Drusilla dreams of the end of the world while Xander turns to Mitch for comfort in the face of Angelus' loss of control, while everything begins to explode around them all..._


End file.
